


The Thing That Should Not Be

by Raissi (Rheila)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crowley (Supernatural) Just Wants To Be Loved, Crowley Has a Heart, Crowley and Feelings, F/M, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 90,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheila/pseuds/Raissi
Summary: Jenna has seen demons her entire life. Other things too: angels, monsters, things she couldn't even explain. Her whole life she'd been told she was crazy. Eventually she had even believed it. Now these two brothers were telling her demons were real. It was all real. Not only was it all real, but those demons, for some reason, they were hunting her.Caught in the middle of a civil war in Hell. With Crowley on one side, and Malphas, a Prince of Hell and former second in command to Lucifer on the other. It's not just her soul that's on the line.





	1. Maybe I'm Just Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: came back and revamped this chapter 2017-08-18. Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me some feedback if you have a moment to do so. It is always appreciated.

Jenna had seen demons her entire life. Other things too: angels, monsters, things she couldn't even explain. Her whole life she'd been told she was crazy. Eventually she had even believed it. Now these two brothers were telling her demons were real. It was all real. Not only was it all real, but those demons, for some reason, they were hunting her.

It was too much. Jenna shook her head frantically. "No, demons aren't real. You're lying. Why are you lying?" With every word the pitch of her voice was getting higher and higher. Biting her lip, she stared at one brother, then the other, desperate for something they were saying to make sense.

"He's not lying," Sam said quietly. His voice was sincere and his eyes met the pale blue gaze of the disheveled, woman standing before him and begged her to believe him.

Jenna couldn't find the words. In a matter of moments, her whole world had been turned upside down. Everything she believed torn apart. All the work and all the years just trying to be normal, of trying to push out and ignore the things she saw, shredded and left in tatters. All thanks to Sam and Dean Winchester.

Of course, she should be grateful. After all, she was still alive thanks to them. Those men, those black-eyed  _demons_ , who had chased her into this alley, lay lifeless on the ground. Fire had torn through their veins, illuminating their skin in an orange glow, before they had finally fizzled out and fallen from the blade those brothers had plunged into their flesh. She was alive they, whatever they really were, were dead.

Oh my God, they were dead. Jenna took a step backwards. It wasn't the first time she had seen a dead body. Living on the streets there were a lot of horrible things that she saw. A lot of drug addicts. A lot of people with mental illnesses. She saw overdoses, and suicides, starvation and exposure. She watched as illness and disease ravaged her fellow man until their bodies just deteriorated and wasted away. Never though had she stood there and watched someone be killed, murdered, by another human being.

Panic began to set in. Black-eyed or not, there were three bodies laying at her feet. A wave of nausea swept over her and Jenna swung her head around, looking for anything to lean on. There was a dumpster off to her her left, she stumbled over and let her weight rest on the cool, steel. Where the paint peeled away, the rust that was eating away at it and left yet more stains on her baggy grey t-shirt.

Inside her chest her heart thumped at a frenetic pace and her lungs screamed for air. Yet no matter how desperately she tried to gulp it in, it was never enough. Oxygen deprived, her vision narrowed and the tall buildings surrounding her seemed to close in. They were going to crush her. The weight of it was going to crush her and she was going to have a heart attack, here in this alley if she couldn't just  _breathe._ Beneath her, her legs felt like jello and threatened to send her crumpling to the pavement.

"Look, I know it's a lot to take in," Sam said, taking a step towards Jenna. Slowly he reached out to try and steady her.

There was something grounding in the voice of another human being. Not just any voice, but his voice. Calm and soothing. It pulled her back from the brink and she realized only then had she had been hyperventilating. With great effort, she slowed her breathing and the alley came back into focus. Nothing was going to crush her. She wasn't going to suffocate, or have a heart attack, or die.

"It's crazy, that's what it is," Jenna exclaimed taking a step back. The youngest brother was getting too close and she held up a palm to keep him at bay. It was barely by a thread that she was holding on, holding herself even remotely together, and she feared that if she let him near her she may just fall apart completely. Swallowing hard, Jenna turned away from the two brothers so they would not see the tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm crazy," she added quietly.

Sam spun the woman around and gripped her firmly by the shoulders. "Look at me," he commanded. "You. Are. Not. Crazy. We'll have time to explain later, but right now… right now we have to go. Those things, those  _demons_ , they're still after you."

Jenna looked from Sam to his brother Dean. The older brother's face was set in a hard, serious line that told her he didn't have the time or the patience to argue.

"Okay," she relented. Really, what choice did she have.

* * *

The Creston was a cheap motel just off the I-83 near Gem, Kansas. Sam and Dean had stayed in some pretty run-down places, but this one, it might just take the cake. There wasn't a single car, aside from a beat-up old Honda Civic which they deduced belonged to the only staff member on site: a greasy haired young lad, maybe twenty-one if that, dressed in a cheap suit. He sat at the front desk texting on his phone for a good minute before Sam finally cleared his throat to get his attention. Still, the clerk held up a hand, and ignored the three of them for another thirty seconds or so.

When he finally looked up, he wasn't apologetic. If anything, he looked like he would rather be somewhere else, anywhere else, than here serving them. The utter disinterest in his job was appalling. "What?" the clerk asked.

Sam arched an eyebrow. Was this kid serious. "We'd like a room, please."

The clerk, Tim his name tag read, chewed the inside of his mouth as he looked at the two brothers, and then to Jenna. "Yeah, whatever," he said finally. "Got a credit card?"

"Actually, we'll be paying cash," Dean cut in. The hunter's patience was clearly wearing thin.

"Uh huh," Tim responded slowly. "Gonna need a damage deposit."

"That's fine," Sam assured him as he pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

Tim bobbed his head, and stared at Sam, which earned a frustrated sigh out of Dean who was growing more impatient by the second.

"Hundred should do it," Tim informed them.

Sam counted out the bills, which the clerk was quick to reach for. It was the most motivated they'd seen him be since they arrived. Sam pulled the money back for a moment, and gave him a serious glare. "We get this back when we leave," he warned him.

"Yeah, whatever," Tim replied still chewing the inside of his lip.

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he handed over the cash and Tim passed him a key to room 26. "Down the far end, bottom floor," the clerk directed them.

"Thanks," Sam muttered, but the clerk was already buried nose deep in his phone once more. "Can you believe that guy?" he asked as soon as they were outside and out of earshot. Dean just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Room 26 was the farthest room from reception, even though clearly none of the other rooms were occupied. No light shone through any of the windows. They had to cross the cracked at pot-holed parking lot, lit only by two dim and flickering lamps that were leaning precariously. "Get the feeling he doesn't want to be bothered?" Dean muttered as he inserted and turned the key.

"Just great," Sam groaned as they stepped inside their room and were met by a damp, musty smell. There were water stains splotching the ceiling and black mold growing in the corners.

"Quit your complaining, Sammy. We've stayed in worse," Dean said as he slapped his brother jovially on the back.

"You know, I'm actually not sure we have," Sam countered. "At least not that we've had to pay for. He could have given us a different room, it's not like the place is jam packed or anything. As far as I can tell, we're the only ones here."

The older brother shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "For all you know, they're all like this," he said, dropping his bag on the floor next to one of the beds. "Maybe they're worse."

Sam let out a little huff. "Yeah, that'd be hard to believe."

Exhausted from the drive, Dean threw himself onto one of the beds and stretched out his cramped, aching muscles. Lacing his fingers behind his head he leaned back and let himself sink into the lumpy pillows. "Dibs!" he grinned.

Sam gave Dean a stern look tilting his head slightly towards their companion. "Right," Dean muttered. "Guess we're sharing," he said to Sam.

"I'll go see if we can get a cot," Jenna offered, noting that there were only two queen sized beds in the room. "If not, I'll just sleep on the floor. It still beats sleeping under an overpass. You don't need to give up your bed for me."

"Once we get back to the bunker you can have your own room," Sam promised, offering her a sympathetic smile, "but in the meantime we need somewhere to lay low and regroup. These sort of places, well they'll take cash and not ask questions. Hopefully we won't have to stay very long."

"It's fine, I'm fine," Jenna assured him, "Really."

Sam paused and gave her the same look that he always gave Dean. Just like his brother, he knew she was lying. Things weren't fine. "It's okay to not be okay," Sam told her, his eyebrows knit together.

"It's all, just a little much, you know?" Jenna said frowning as she trailed her slender fingers absently along the edge of the TV stand.

"I know," Sam all but whispered.

Did he really? Him and Dean had grown up in this life. Could he really understand how overwhelming it must be for someone who hadn't? Someone who was normal… _Except I'm not normal,_  Jenna reminded herself. A normal person wouldn't have found themselves in a seedy motel room with two complete strangers. A normal person would have turned and ran from them as soon as they'd mentioned the word demon. A normal person would not be ignoring the handgun laid out casually on the bedside table. A normal person would not be standing here watching as if everything going on was perfectly okay.

_Demons? Really? And I just willingly went with them? They could do anything they want and no one would even know where I am._

The woman shook her head and tried to focus on something else, on anything else. While Sam had been unpacking his bag, Dean had begun to pour a line of salt in front of the door and window. That was odd. That was something else. Jenna raised a thin eyebrow. "Salt?" She asked.

"Mhmm," Dean grunted, absorbed in his work.

"Okay, but why?" What was all of this about.

"It will keep them out," he explained without looking up.

"The demons? Really?"

"Mhmm," Dean replied. "At least for the time being."

Jenna pressed her lips together firmly and nodded, as if that were the most reasonable thing in the world, but as she thought about it, the absurdity of it hit her and she began to laugh.

_I've finally, actually, lost it. What have I gotten myself into?_

"Something funny?" Dean asked. The oldest Winchester did not sound amused.

"It's a table condiment," Jenna pointed out between stifled giggles.

Dean grunted and moved on to the next task without further explanation.

"Salt has been used since ancient times to purify and cleanse," Sam offered, filling in the gaps. Then gesturing to the symbols his brother was currently etching onto the walls, he added, "Those symbols are demon warding."

"So this will keep us safe?" Jenna asked. It was crazy, all of it, and she was crazy for going along with it. What she really needed right now though wasn't to make sense of a world that had never made enough sense anyhow. What she needed was some reassurance that despite how messed up the world, or her brain, or whatever was going on was, things were going to be okay.

"For now," Sam told her with a heavy sigh.

There was nothing reassuring in those words. Instead she was filled with a sinking, ominous feeling and the knot in her stomach tightened. Would she ever get to stop running? Stop hiding? Somehow she doubted it. With a resigned sigh, Jenna reached out and lightly ran her fingers along one of the wards that were supposed to keep her safe, for now. To her surprise the lines danced under her fingertips. Letting out a startled gasp she took a step back and looked from one brother to the other. Neither had given it any notice. Perhaps that was how warding worked, or perhaps she was just crazy.

"Why are they after me? The demons?" Jenna asked.

Dean shook his head, still absorbed in his work. "All we know right now is that they are."

"Don't worry," Sam added reassuringly. "We'll figure this out. Together. But if you can think of anything, anything at all, you need to tell us. No matter how strange or trivial it may seem."

Jenna closed her eyes and inhaled a long, shaky breath. "I can see them, the demons..." she admitted. Her voice was quiet. Timid. Those words had never earned her anything but trouble.

Her parents had loved her, and they had tried so hard to get her help. They had taken her to countless psychiatrists and tried every medication known to mankind. She'd been labelled schizophrenic. The demons, they were just delusions, hallucinations, the doctors had assured them.  _Here these pills will help_. Except they never did. As an adult it had been worse. She'd never been able to hold down a job for long and had ended up homeless.

"You can see them?" Sam leaned in his brows drawn as he tilted his head. "What exactly do you mean when you say you can see them?"

"They have this aura," Jenna tried to explain, gesturing with her hands as if it could make sense of what she saw. "Like black smoke. It surrounds them. It's  _inside_  of them. And their eyes…"

"Solid black," Sam finished for her.

Dean had stopped what he was doing and looked up.

"Yes," Jenna breathed in amazement. A wave of relief washed over her and all at once the tension in her body seemed to melt away. For once in her life someone believed her.

"Wait, can you see them all the time, or just when they… you know," Dean gestured to his eyes.

"All the time."

"How long has this been going on?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight where he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"My whole life," Jenna admitted quietly. "I thought I was crazy. Doctors convinced me I was crazy. But I never stopped seeing them."

Well, this was definitely something. "Do you see anything else?" Dean demanded, his voice unintentionally gruff.

Jenna opened her mouth to speak, then stopped and chewed anxiously on her bottom lip.

"No one here is going to think you're crazy," Sam assured her.

Jenna took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. "All sorts of things. Angels, monsters, things I don't even know what they are… I can see something in their eyes, and inside of them. I… don't know how to explain it. It's like I see their energy. Their soul."

Dean set aside his work and sat next to Sam. His green eyes were glued to the red-headed woman as he watched her with the same rapt attention as his brother. What she was saying, it was something new to them - and it wasn't that often that something surprised the two hunters. She was human, they were sure of that. A prophet perhaps. Though her claims didn't really fit with being a prophet.

"I see the energy in your wards too," Jenna added. It was a strange feeling to be able to talk about the things she saw, without everyone looking at her like she'd gone off her rocker. It was liberating in a way, to be able to open up and not be judged or labelled but rather to have someone take her seriously, to believe her.

"Really?" Sam asked his eyes widening slightly. "What does it look like?"

"It...," Jenna tried to explain, but her face twisted into a grimace as she searched for the right words. Nothing could quite describe it. Nothing could quite capture what it was she had seen when she had touched the wards. "It's like I'm seeing two things at once. One is just the symbols you drew. But... when I touch them, I see something else at the same time. There's this iridescent glow that moves under my fingertips."

"Interesting," Dean mused as he rubbed his chin.

"Do you think it's connected to why the demons are after her?" Sam asked.

Dean snorted. "Since when are things like this coincidence?"

Whatever was going on, they had no doubt that it was somehow all connected. The problem was going to be figuring out how and what it all meant. The hunters had never encountered anything quite like this, not in their many years of experience or in any of the lore they had read. The woman, she was a mystery to them. Somehow they were going to have to keep her safe while they tried to piece together the puzzle of what she was and why she was being hunted.

 


	2. Trouble in Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Revamped this chapter 2017-08-18. Hope you're enjoying it. If you feel like leaving a review, I'd love to hear what you think.

What Jenna had always believed to be her curse, her illness, had turned out to be much more. After being attacked in an alleyway, she found herself with the Winchesters, who explained to her that the demons she had been seeing her entire life were real. Sam and Dean opened her eyes to a world she'd spent twenty eight years trying to block out. Now, together, they were trying to stay one step ahead of the demons that were hunting her and figure out what her sight really meant.

The motel room where they were staying had been secured as best as they could. The windows and door were salted. The whole room had been warded. And inside, Sam and Dean had an arsenal, ready to kill anything that got through. But all was quiet and uneventful as the evening rolled on.

"I'm going to head over to the reception office and see about that cot before it gets too late" Jenna told the two brothers. "I saw a gas station half a block away. I was thinking I might grab some water and snacks while I'm out. Did you want anything?" The water in the hotel, she had discovered when she tried to take a much needed soak in the tub, was brown from rust and sediment. There was no way any of them were going to be drinking anything that came from those taps.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I'll go." Dean told her, as he looked up from the laptop he had resting on his knees as he sat in bed trying to find any information he could on what the woman might be. As long as they laid low, paid cash, and didn't do anything to attract unwanted attention to themselves, the demons ought not to be able to track them to the motel. Still, letting that woman, who had just be thrust into all this madness and had no experience as a hunter, walk out that door. It didn't sit well with him.

"I'll be quick," Jenna assured him. "If I see anything at all out of sorts I'll come right back. I can see the demons, remember."

Dean closed his laptop and shook his head, casting her an uncompromising look. "Not happening."

Jenna leaned her shoulder against the motel room wall and sighed. "Look, I get that you're worried. But right now, I could really, really use the space to clear my head a bit," she admitted. "This is all so much to take in. Someone has to go, and the fresh air would do me good."

"She's got a point," Sam smiled sympathetically.

Dean got his hackles up. "You can't seriously be thinking about letting her go?" he demanded harshly.

"Why not, Dean? She's right. Someone has to go. The demons don't know where we are."

Jenna stood there and listened for a moment as Sam and Dean argued. Their concern was appreciated, really it was. The thing was though, it wasn't up to them. It was up to her. "Guys!" Jenna cut across the two of them. "I don't need your permission."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it. What could he really say. Jenna wasn't their prisoner, and she was right. She was a grown woman who could make her own choices.

"Okay then," Jenna said, pushing herself off the wall and standing up straight. "I'm glad that is settled."

"If you're gone more than fifteen minutes we're coming looking," Dean told her.

"Not because you have to," Sam added softly, "But because we want to make sure you're okay and that the demons didn't somehow track us here."

Jenna was already walking towards the door. She threw a glance over her shoulder. "Yes mom," she said teasingly.

Sam chuckled. Maybe there some fire inside her after all to match that red hair of hers. Dean on the other hand, didn't think it was funny at all and simply glared, unimpressed. Her going out there on her own, when only hours earlier she had been running with three demons hot on her tail, it felt wrong. It felt irresponsible. If anything happened... the thought grated on him, because somehow he knew it would be his fault for letting her go.

* * *

It had been a long time since Castiel had walked through the white corridors of Heaven. It was strange to be back Once this place had been his home. Once upon a time these halls had felt familiar and inviting. Now though, he felt like an outsider. He felt unwelcome. Not that he blamed the rest of the angels. The things he had done, they were practically unforgivable. Time after time he had chosen the Winchesters and humanity over his own kin, over his mission. He had slaughtered his own brothers and sisters as he tried to become the new God. No, he didn't blame them at all.

That said, he had no idea why he was here. He had been called upon, but the reason for it remained hidden from him as he approached the meeting room at the end of the hall. When he opened those doors he was met by the waiting faces of half a dozen angels. Joshua was not amongst them. In God's absence, and after the disasters of Naomi and Metatron, he had stepped in to lead the angels in a more peaceful direction. The truth was, he was doing a good job of it. A better job than Castiel ever did. The angel on angel violence had all but stopped, and they were able to once again focus on their missions.

Castiel squinted and looked at each angel in turn. The seraph Jehoel was there, plus several lesser angels. Hannah was there too. When Castiel's blue eyes fell on her, his posture stiffened. Once they had gotten close. But the last time he had seen her, she had been in charge of his interrogation and he had watched her die. Death of course, as he had learned, wasn't always as final as it seemed. As of yet, he did not know why she was back, but she was.

"Why did you call me here?" he asked gruffly.

"We need to talk." It was Hannah that stepped forward and spoke.

Of course, it would be her. "And what exactly do we need to talk about?" Castiel asked curtly.

There was a tension between the two angels that was palpable. Hannah pressed her lips together and raised her chin slightly. It was apparent that she regarded her actions as necessary. She had done only what she had to do, what he had forced her to do. Castiel too, had made his choices and done what he had felt was right at the time. Free will, it was a muddy thing. He would be lying if he pretended that he didn't understand why the other angels clung to the certainty of their missions. It was easier to follow orders than to give them.

Out of the awkward silence one of the other angels, Eremiel, spoke. "It's just that... there are rumors," he explained.

Castiel watched the other angels as they shifted their weight uncomfortably. "What rumours?" he demanded impatiently.

"The demons have located a powerful weapon," Eremiel told him.

Castiel's eyes narrowed, and his facial muscles tightened. It was never good when demons were involved. The black-eyed, twisted souls were bent on nothing but death and destruction. Putting a powerful weapon in their hands was a recipe for disaster. "They plan to use it against Heaven?" Castiel assumed.

"No."

Castiel let out a sigh, and with it some of the tension he was holding dissipated, only to be quickly replaced. If the demons had located a weapon and they weren't planning to use it against Heaven, then there was only one reason why he would have been called here. "They plan to use it against Earth?" he asked, certain that must be the answer.

Eremiel shook his head.

"What then?" Castiel asked, hardly able to contain the annoyance in his voice. It was like pulling teeth. If this weapon was so dangerous, they should just get to the point and tell him why they summoned him to Heaven.

"There is a civil war going on in Hell," Eremiel explained.

"I am aware," Castiel replied. "But I fail to see what concern that is of ours. The angels' priority is with Heaven."

Hannah took a tentative step towards Castiel, trying to close the distance that had come between them. "Because it doesn't matter what or who they plan to use it against," she explained, her eyes settling intensely on his. "They do not understand what it means. If they go through with this, it will be the end. Of all of us. Of everything."

A long silence followed. The rest of the angels stood uncomfortably, gathered in the center of the room. They were all looking at him. "Is itâ€¦ ?" Castiel finally asked, his voice breaking the still merely nodded, her eyes never leaving his. A deep frown marred his face as he contemplated what she was telling him. "It can't be. It's a myth. A story that has been told over and over since the beginning of creation."

"Castiel, don't be so naÃ¯ve," Hannah replied, taking another step towards her former friend. "You know as well as any of us about the prophecy that was spoken twenty eight years ago."

Castiel turned away abruptly, and began to pace from one side of the room to the other with his hands folded behind his back, almost oblivious to the other angels' presence. Oblivious to the fact that they were all there, staring at him and waiting for him to say something. To do something.

"This is bad," Castiel thought aloud. "This is very bad." If what Hannah and the others were telling him was true, they were in a lot of trouble. They were facing a threat unlike any other they had ever faced before.

It was Jehoel, a seraph like Castiel, who spoke next. "You're our last, best hope Castiel. Please, help us. If you do, your past sins, they will be forgiven. You will be welcome back in Heaven."

"What do you expect me to do?" Castiel asked. This was beyond the powers of any one angel to stop.

"Lead the army of Heaven," Jehoel told him.

"I can't," Castiel protested.

"Of course you can," Jehoel assured him. "You're a soldier, Castiel."

That had been true once. As he looked at the faces of the angels staring back at him and saw the desperation in their eyes, he wondered if maybe it could be true again. Perhaps yes, he could lead Heaven's army, because if he didn't then who would. And one thing was certain, someone needed to or they were all doomed.

* * *

The gas station down the road from the Carsten Motel where Jenna and the Winchesters were staying was relatively quiet. Anxiously, Jenna stole glances at the cashier and the couple of customers that were there grabbing smokes or whatever it was they were grabbing. Half of her expected to see black eyes staring back at her. After the day that she had had, her regular paranoia was amplified off the charts. But she didn't. They were just human, like her.

Quickly she grabbed three bottles of water from the cooler, a couple bags of chips, and a handful of other snacks. She rushed to the cashier counter and deposited the items beside the till. With her hands free she dug around in her pocket and pulled out some crumpled notes.

"That'll be twelve seventy two," the clerk, with his short, curly blond hair rattled off uninterestedly. He was noisily chewing gum as he spoke.

Jenna counted the money she had, but it wasn't enough. It had been a dreary, rainy morning, and pan-handling had been slow. Not that it was exactly reliable to begin with, but usually she managed enough to get by or at least to put some food in her belly. Then again, most days she wasn't chased off by demons and sent on the run with a pair of monster-hunting brothers. Regardless, the heat of embarrassment and shame crept up onto her freckled cheeks. Having spent the majority of her adult life homeless, she ought to have been used to it by now, but she wasn't. Not really.

"I'll just take the water and the chips," Jenna mumbled. She had lowered her head, unable to look him in the eye. No, shame, and guilt, and regret still had a habit of swallowing her whole.

"Whatever you say," the clerk replied, still chewing his gum as he gave her the new total. Jenna hurriedly handed over the money, turned and high-tailed it for the door. The sooner she could get back to the motel, the better.

The Carsten came into view and Jenna remembered that she needed to stop at the front desk and ask about a cot. She just hoped that Tim, the least motivated night clerk on the planet, would be bothered enough to put down his phone for a moment to see if they had one available. It always astounded her how much people complained about their jobs, or slacked off, or did everything in their power to avoid working. That was the thing about being homeless, everyone always assumed that she was just a lazy addict, but nothing could be further from the truth. Jenna would have loved nothing more than to have a job and actually be a contributing member of society. On the occasions when she had actually managed to snag one and hang onto it for more than a day she had worked her butt off and she had been so happy and so thankful to have a job to go to. It was just hard to do when you looked at your coworkers and saw demons and monsters.

About twenty yards from the office, Jenna looked up, expecting to see Tim texting on his phone. Instead she was staring through blood spattered windows at a grisly scene. Tim was dead, no doubt thanks to the two demons that had slit his throat and were currently draining his blood into a basin. Jenna let out a strangled cry and brought her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound, dropping the bag she was carrying. For a moment she couldn't think. She just stood frozen in place watching the scene unfold with abject horror. That was four. Four people, she had watched die since she woke up this morning.

Oh God. Sam and Dean. She had to warn them. They had to go. Now. They had to run. Somehow she willed her limbs to move, and heart pounding she turned and raced back towards the motel room. As she glanced expectantly behind her she saw no one. The demons, they hadn't seen her yet. If she could justâ€¦

"Uhmph." Jenna stumbled backwards landing on her butt on the hard asphalt. When she looked up she saw a handsome man impeccably dressed in a black suit. Despite his medium stature, he carried himself in a way that was so self-assured and confident lending a command to his presence.

"Are you alright?" The man asked in a sexy British accent.

Jenna opened her mouth to speak, "I... I,"she stammered, but she couldn't get the words out. There was something off about him. When she looked at him, he looked human, but it was almost as if she caught just a glimpse of something else. Had there been the faintest hint of red behind those brown eyes, she wasn't sure. He certainly wasn't one of the black-eyed demons. Speaking of which, Jenna glanced behind her expecting the two demons who had killed Tim to be closing in. The parking lot was empty. They must still have been in the office.

"You what, love?" The man asked calmly.

Returning her attention to the well-dressed man, Jenna began to seriously doubt if she had seen anything at all. Perhaps it had just been her panic-stricken imagination, because when she looked at his face all she saw were soft, brown eyes gazing back at her. "I.. I have to go," she sputtered as the man reached down to help her to her feet. God, his hand was so warm. "You need to run, it's not safe, there'sâ€¦" Jenna trailed off, realizing how crazy she must sound.

"Not safe?" The man in the suit repeated patiently.

"I have no time to explain," Jenna told him as she grabbed his hand in hers. "There are demons. Please you have to run," she explained as she tugged on his hand for him to follow, but he didn't budge, and she wasn't strong enough to drag him. _He doesn't believe me. Of course he doesn't believe me. Who would? He probably thinks I'm crazy..._ Jenna thought frantically. "Please," Jenna begged, her voice cracking as the panic started to take over. "They will kill you."

"Oh, I doubt that," the man replied.

What. Jenna stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly agape. The calmness with which he was taking all of this in was unsettling. Shouldn't he be running, either from the demons she claimed were going to kill him, or from her crazy ass...

"Crowley!" Dean's angry voice cut across the parking lot. Jenna turned her head and saw him and Sam rushing toward her from the motel room. "Crowley, you let her go, or I swear I'llâ€¦"

"You'll what?" the man snarled back mockingly. Crowley, his name was Crowley.

Then it hit Jenna, like a freight train to the chest. What she thought she had seen, the red that lurked behind those eyes, it had been real. She hadn't imagined it. "Shit," she cursed. Just as Jenna went to drop his hand and run, Crowley returned her grip with crushing force. "Ouch!" Jenna yelped more out of shock than pain.

Crowley pulled Jenna into him and wrapped his other arm around her waist, holding her body pressed tight against his like a shield between him and the Winchesters. If she had thought his hand was warm, the heat radiating off his body was incredible. It was like there was a furnace burning inside of him. Being so close she could smell him: clean, expensive cologne, and just the faintest hint of sulfur.

"Let me go," Jenna pleaded as she made a futile attempt to wriggle free from Crowley's solid hold. "Please." Inside her chest her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear the blood rushing through her ears like a raging river. It was a deafening noise that only she could hear.

"Sorry, love," Crowley crooned. A wicked smile spread across his face as he dipped Jenna backwards gracefully so that she could look up into his eyes. "About those demonsâ€¦" He let his words trail off and his eyes glowed a solid red. There was no need to finish the sentence. A picture was worth a thousand words. There was no mistaking what she saw this time. Maybe he wasn't a black-eyed demon, but he was a demon no less.

Crowley brought Jenna back to her feet, letting the realization of what he was truly set in. Underneath her, her knees trembled as if all the strength had been sucked out of them. If it wasn't for the demon's arm around her waist, she would have collapsed to the hard asphalt of the parking lot.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Jenna stammered.

"No apologies necessary," Dean told her. The hunter had his eyes fixed squarely on the demon that was holding her.

She was supposed to have been able to see the demons. She was supposed to have been able to avoid this sort of situation. Not even half an hour ago she had been assuring the oldest Winchester that it would be fine. Now she was here, held hostage by the red-eyed Crowley with two more demons not far behind. "There's more, in the office. Two demons. They killed the receptionist. I ran. I tried to get to you and Sam. I tried to warn you."

"It's okay, this isn't your fault," Sam assured her as he stepped up next to his older brother. His face twitched as he stared loathingly at Crowley. There was a history between them, that much was clearly evident. Jenna couldn't help but wonder what it was. A question for another day, if she ever got out of this.

Dean looked past Jenna and Crowley and his posture stiffened. "Looks like we've got trouble," he remarked. The two demons, they weren't in the office anymore.

"Are they yours?" Sam asked Crowley angrily.

"No, Moose, they're not mine." Crowley replied coolly. "I keep my word."

"Then how did you find us? what are you doing here?" Sam growled.

"Come on now boys, your modus operandi isn't exactly difficult to discern. It was obvious that you would be in some cheap motel. All I had to do was wait for my enemy's goons to determine which one. They find you. They call home. I intercept said call. A thank you should be in order. If it weren't for me, you'd have a lot more than two demons on your hands."

"Your enemy?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight anxiously. The two demons, they were getting closer.

Crowley rolled his eyes at Sam's discomfort. He raised the hand that wasn't wrapped around Jenna's waist and the two demons stopped in their tracks, forced to their knees by his telekinetic powers. "Me and the Hardy Boys here are having a little chat. Afraid you're just going to have to wait in line," he told them, before returning his attention back to Sam. "Yes, my enemy. King of Hell, remember," he said, gesturing to himself. "Some traitorous little whore always wants my throne. Right now that traitorous little whore happens to be Malphas, and the bastard is leading a rival faction of demons against me. I've got a bit of a civil war on my hands down in Hell."

Dean rolled his eyes at the demon. "Cry me a freakin' river. So you've got trouble in paradise. Don't care."

Sam held up a hand for his brother to be quiet. "Hold on, Dean. Crowley, did you say Malphas? As in the Prince of Hell, second in command to Lucifer. That Malphas?"

Dean arched an eyebrow. That was interesting, good catch Sam.

"No, the other Malphas," Crowley sneered. "Of course that Malphas you dim-witted twat."

Sam's head was spinning. Here was this woman, who could see... things. They weren't sure exactly the extent of her sight. Then there was Crowley and Malphas duking it out for Hell. "What does she have to do with any of this?" Sam asked, trying to put all the pieces together. Instead of getting any answers, he was just ending up with more questions.

"She is of great interest to my enemy," Crowley replied cryptically.

Dean groaned. "So you figured you'd just come and take her for yourself?"Â 

"Yes," Crowley replied shrugging his shoulders, a cocky smile spreading across his face.Â 

"How about not," Dean growled as he pulled out his demon blade and took a step towards Crowley.

"Come on Dean, you and I both know you aren't going to kill me," Crowley stated calmly. The demon was completely unphased, if not mildly amused, by the hunter's advance.

"You don't want Malphas to have her, now I get that," Dean told him. "But there is not a snowball's chance I'm letting you walk away with her."

"Oh Dean, you're adorable," Crowley teased. "But, I don't need you to _let_ me do anything."

Sam shifted his weight nervously. They had had plenty of run ins with the King of Hell, former King of the Crossroads, over the years. They'd also worked along side him more times than he cared to admit. Their relationship was, well it was murky. It wasn't really clear. That said, he wouldn't put it past the demon to gut them given the opportunity and the proper motivation.

"Why don't you just leave her with us," Sam offered, keen to avoid a violent run in with Crowley if possible. He was, after all, still a business man. Perhaps he could be reasoned with. "We'll keep her away from Malphas and his demons, and you can go back to securing your rule over Hell."

Crowley snickered at the offer. "Right, because you and Squirrel have been doing a bang up job so far, haven't you?" he shot back. "What the bloody hell was she even doing out here on her own? I expected more from you boys." He sighed and dropped his hand, releasing the two demons he had been holding off. "Well, it's been lovely, but I've got a kingdom run. Toodles boys," he said with a wave. Sam opened his mouth to protest, but the King of Hell and the woman were gone.

* * *

 


	3. Not Just Any Ordinary Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> came back and revamped this chapter 2017-08-23. Hope you enjoyed it. If you are, or even if you're not, please leave me some feedback! I love to hear what you think, and it helps me grow and learn as a... I don't want to say writer, because that I am not... but it is what I'm doing ;)

Safe. Jenna was supposed to have been safe, and for a moment, it had seemed as though she was. After all of the crazy shit that had happened, she'd found herself at the run-down Carsten Motel in Gem, Kansas with Sam and Dean and things had been quiet. Uneventful. There had been no sign of the black-eyed demons that were hunting her. Everything had been going as best it could. Then in a whirlwind, it had all come crashing down. Tim, the receptionist who so clearly hated his job, was dead which brought the body count up to four. Malphas' minions had slit his throat and drained his blood into a basin. Then, as Jenna had run back towards the motel room to warn Sam and Dean, she had rushed headlong into Crowley and let herself get captured by the, what did he call himself, the King of Hell. After that, things went black.

Now the world spun so violently it felt as if it might just tear itself apart. Maybe it was tearing itself apart. Jenna's stomach churned like a barrel full of fish in a feeding frenzy, sending a surge of nausea that enveloped all of her senses completely. Never in her life had she felt so utterly sick. She doubled over, at least she thought she had, and placed her hands on her knees to steady herself. Truth was, she didn't know if she was upright, or upside down, or just laying on her side in the fetal position. It was all just so awful. She was dying. Whatever Crowley did, she was dying, she thought. The taste of salt hit the back of her throat, and she felt a thick mucous forming in her mouth. Instinctively she brought a hand up to her mouth, but nothing came. "Oh, god," she cried out, convulsing slightly as the bile receded from her throat.

"Sorry, love," Crowley apologized from behind her. "Teleportation has that effect on some people."

"Teleportation?" Jenna repeated, her voice weak.

"Mmm." The demon's voice sounded so far away.

One. Two. Three deep breaths. Cautiously Jenna opened one eye, unsure what to expect. If you had asked her that morning, she would have told you that teleportation was impossible. After everything that had happened though, she wasn't so sure. She wasn't sure about anything anymore. A gasp escaped her mouth as she surveyed her surroundings. The motel parking lot and the dim flickering street lamps were gone. In its place stood a lavish study with high, ornate ceilings and hardwood floors. The walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookcases, complete with rolling ladder, their shelves filled with old, leather-bound tomes. There was a pair of leather arm chairs next to where she stood, and on the far side, a large, sturdy teak desk.

"Where am I?" Jenna stammered in disbelief.

"Somewhere safe."

Jenna snorted. There was that word again. Safe. "Where are Sam and Dean?" she wanted to know.

"Back at the motel," Crowley replied with a shrug. "That is if Malphas' demons haven't killed them."

Once more, Jenna's stomach rolled and she squeezed her eyes shut. Oh my God. Could they really be dead because of her. If she had just listened to-

"Don't worry your pretty little head," Crowley said with a chuckle, "If anyone can handle a couple of demons it is those two denim-clad buffoons."

That didn't make Jenna feel any better. Not really. Though she hoped the demon was right. If they were dead, she would never forgive herself. "Why am I here?" she demanded.

Crowley walked over until he was mere inches from her and leaned down so she could feel his hot breath on her ear. "There's no foreplay with you is there?" he asked, and all the hairs on her neck stood on end. "It's all just straight to business."

Jenna swallowed reflexively, and her body slumped a bit the tension releasing as he removed himself from her personal space. "You kidnapped me. I want to know why," Jenna explained.

Crowley loosened his tie and walked casually across the study to his desk. Pulling out a bottle of Glencraig, he poured himself a generous glass of the single malt scotch whiskey, aged 30 years. Swirling it around in his glass, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent deeply. There was that hint of pine. "Ahh…" he breathed it in.

"Are you going to answer me?" Jenna demanded, still standing in the exact same spot that she had been teleported to. She stared intently at her captor waiting for a response. It may not have been the best move to make demands of the King of Hell, but right now, the way she figured it, she didn't have a lot to lose.

The demon chuckled and used his telekinetic powers to pull one of the armchairs over in front of his desk. The feet scraped across the hardwood floor, leaving a slight gouge in the wood. "Sit down," He commanded. "We have a lot to discuss, you and I. Care for a drink?"

* * *

Gravel crunched beneath the impala's wheels as Dean pulled the car into the parking lot of The Roadside Bar just outside of Selden, Kansas. It was a hokey, rundown family establishment in the middle of nowhere, with Selden having a population of a whopping 216, but the owner, Jim, was known to be friendly to hunters. It had been many years since Dean had last crossed paths with Jim. If he recalled, Dean had been on a job hunting werewolves with his dad back in '99. Jim probably wouldn't even remember him after all this time. But it didn't matter. This would be somewhere safe for him and Sam to rest and regroup.

The two hunters walked through the front door and their ears were immediately accosted by a cringe-worthy sound. Some poor drunk fool was butchering a Bon Jovi song at the karaoke machine in the corner. Dean groaned, and several other patrons booed. Others though, they laughed and cheered the guy on.

"If I were him, I wouldn't quit my day job," Dean remarked to Sam.

"When have you ever had a day job, Dean?" Sam retorted. "When have either of us?"

Dean snorted. "Well, there was that time you hit that dog and ended up, what was it, working as a maintenance guy cause you had the hots for some veterinarian chick. What was her name again?"

Sam sighed. "Amelia, Dean. Her name was Amelia."

The two of them approached the bar, where a bartender stood, somewhere in his mid twenties. If it wasn't for the tightly curled brown mop on top of his head and the scar on his left cheek, Dean would never have recognized him as Jim's eldest son, Clayton. When he'd last seen him, Clayton was still a teenager. Now he was sporting full sleeve tattoos on both arms and five-o'clock shadow. Aside from the bit of scruff on his face, he was well groomed, and he had bright blue eyes that reminded Dean of Cas.

Dean pulled up a seat at the bar and waved the bartender over. "Where's your old man at?" he asked.

"Not here," Clayton answered curtly.

Dean arched an eyebrow. He could venture a guess. "Hunting?" he asked.

The last time Dean had seen Jim, the hunter had been talking to his old man. John and him and been telling war stories. Werewolves, vampires, wendigos. At the end of it all, Jim had told him that he was planning on getting out of the life. He wanted to live to see his sons get married, and god willing, have children of their own. And the life they lived, well they all knew how that tended to turn out. At the time Dean hadn't understood. He wasn't sure he still did. What he did know was that when you tried to get out the life had a way of sucking you back in. Once a hunter, always a hunter.

"Who's asking?" Clayton asked, eyeing Dean and his brother wearily.

"An old friend," Dean assured him, a friendly smile on his chiseled face.

Clayton's eyebrows narrowed further as he leaned over the bar. "You a hunter?" he asked.

"Yeah, me and my brother Sam. Me and my dad, John Winchester, worked a couple cases with your old man back in the day."

"I remember John," Clayton said giving Dean a nod of approval. "We don't get many of you hunters here anymore," he explained. "Not since dad got sick and me and Josh took over running the place, not being hunters ourselves and all."

Sam leaned in a bit from where he was sitting next to Dean at the bar. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad," he said offering his condolences, a sincere smile and a small nod of his head.

Clayton nodded mechanically as he tried to swallow the emotion. "Yeah, cancer. It's a bitch. He's uh, in the hospital. But things aren't looking good."

Glancing down, Dean saw there was no wedding ring on Clayton's finger. Damn, Jim had managed to get out of the life and after everything he might not get to live to meet his future daughter-in-laws and grandkids anyways. Cancer man, Clayton was right, what a bitch.

Clayton took a quick breath and stepped back. "So can I get you boys anything to drink?" he asked. There was an eagerness to change the subject, as he tried to blink back the tears that were welling in the corners of his eyes.

"How 'bout a couple of beer," Dean replied. He got it. He hated the chick flick moments too. Man, he wouldn't even let himself cry in front of Sam, never mind a couple of strangers.

Clayton nodded. "Coming right up."

"None for me, thanks," Sam corrected. "Maybe just a tonic water."

"That's alright," Dean said slapping a couple bills on the countertop at the bar and casting a sly grin in his brother's direction . "Those beer were for me anyways, Sammy."

Sam grunted and shook his head disapprovingly. "Easy there tiger. Don't you think we should, you know, stay sober until we figure out what we're going to do?" He asked. It was a legitimate question, because as of right now they didn't have any leads. The way he saw it, they had a better chance of finding something, anything, if they stayed clear-headed.

"What I think, is that I'd like a beer," Dean retorted as he smiled and grabbed one of the beer that clayton had placed in front of him. He took a long swig. "Unless you got any idea where Crowley may have taken Jenna, but far as I can tell, we've got nothing. Nada. Zip."

Sam grimaced when faced with the truth of their situation. Dean was right, they had nothing. Absolutely nothing, and he wouldn't even know where to start. When the King of Hell didn't want to be found, he wasn't found. Simple as that.

His attention drifted to the small TV screen that hung above the bar. It was playing the news.

" _A grisly scene at The Creston Motel tonight, as police discovered three bodies…"_  the newscaster droned. In the background Sam could just make out the blood splattered window to the motel office behind the police tape.

"Hey, isn't that…" Sam said but he let his words trail off.

"Mhmm," Dean agreed.

"Hey, Clayton, could you turn that up?" Sam called to the bartender, as he motioned to the TV.

"Yeah, sure thing," Clayton replied as he reached up and adjusted the volume.

" _One body confirmed to belong to an employee of the motel. The other two have yet to be identified."_ The cameraman panned out to the police cars, where several witnesses and onlookers were milling about looking appropriately shaken up.

"Hey, did you see that?" Sam asked, hitting Dean in the arm to get his attention.

"Hmm, see what?"

"Him, there," Sam pointed to one of the men walking uncharacteristically calmly behind the police cars. As he turned, and the camera caught his face again, Dean saw it. Caught on camera the man's, no  _demon's_ , eyes glowed unnaturally.

Dean put down his beer, turning from the TV screen to his brother Sam. It was a good catch and a real lucky break. "Yeah, I see it," he replied.

"Do you think it's one of Malphas'?" Sam asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. If it was, this could make all of the difference.

Dean grinned back at his younger brother and gave a strong affirmative nod. "Definitely," he said, no doubt in his mind.

* * *

Back in his study, Crowley sat behind his sturdy teak desk, hands folded in front of him and watched with a bemused look as the red-headed woman walked uneasily across the room. Each step was drawn out, slow and agonizingly, as if she could somehow stretch the distance out far enough that she wouldn't eventually get to where she was going. That she might not ever get to  _him_. Of course, the study was only so large, and eventually she did make it to where he awaited her.

"You seem nervous," Crowley observed as Jenna lowered herself reluctantly into the over-sized leather armchair.

"You're a demon." Her voice cracked ever so slightly when she spoke.

That much was true so he couldn't fault her there. His kind had a certain reputation and he couldn't deny that he himself had lived up to that reputation… and then some. He smiled to himself. "Not just any ordinary demon, love. I'm the King of Hell."

"Even better," Jenna grumbled as she pushed away the glass of scotch he had poured for her.

"You have nothing to be afraid of," Crowley assured her. "I told you you are safe here, and I meant it. I keep my word." Just because he was a demon didn't mean he was entirely without principles. Not to say that he wouldn't exploit a loophole given a chance, but he would never go back entirely on his word. It just wasn't good business.

The woman studied him, her eyebrows drawn and her pale blue eyes darting back and forth. Crowley knew that she didn't believe him, and he hadn't expected her to, not yet anyways. After all, he was a demon and he hand kidnapped her, that left her with every reason not to. But he was telling her the truth: he had no intentions of harming her. What he intended, if the rumors were true, was to get her working for him.

Except he didn't know if the things he heard were true. Not yet. So he began to speak, "Now until, I figure out what you are…"

"What I am?" Jenna interrupted. "I'm not anything. I'm just a woman. A human being." She shifted her weight in the chair, her short little legs dangling over the edge. It seemed to swallow her whole and make her look even more tiny and fragile than she already was.

Crowley took a sip of his Glencraig and let the interruption pass. "For all intents and purposes, yes," he agreed. "But…"

The woman scooted forward in her chair, leaning forward and staring intently, almost angrily, at the demon. "What do you mean for all intents and purposes?" she interrupted him again.

Crowley took a moment to collect himself and straightened the cuffs of his suit. While it was all well and good to have the head of one of his demons if they dared to show him disrespect and interrupt him like that, it would not do him any good to lose his cool now. Not when he was trying to recruit her. This was... she was a more delicate situation that called for some self-restraint and finesse. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Crowley replied after a moment, every syllable enunciated with a calculated calmness.

Even if the rumors were true and this woman was what he hoped she was, she was still human. At the end of the day, she would still bleed and die like a human. Until he knew more, until he was sure, he didn't want to say anything further on the subject. It could all be broached in due time. "Now, as I was saying," he told her firmly, "Until I figure out what you are, you will stay here. You will be safe. I have my most loyal and trusted demons looking after that."

"I'm…" Jenna began to protest.

"Yes, yes, human. I know," Crowley repeated as he leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes dramatically. "But you're different, aren't you, love?"

Jenna pressed her lips together and swallowed. Crowley's eyes narrowed, focused intensely on the woman sitting before him. If he'd asked her to hold out her hands, he knew he would have found them trembling. Ah yes, she knew she was different. A surge of anticipation coursed through the demons veins and he licked his lips. The prospect excited him greatly.

* * *

Outside, behind the bar, the night air was cool. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves and dry grass. The only other sound was the dull thumping bass from the music playing inside. It was calm, and quiet, and as good a place as any to ask for help.

Dean cleared his throat. "Castiel," he called, quietly, awkwardly. God he wasn't good at this. Even away from Sam where no one could hear him, it was hard to admit that he didn't have it all figured out. "Look man, I don't know if you can hear me, but if you're out there we could really use your help."

Nothing.

" _I_  could really use your help," Dean tried again.

Dean scuffed a shoe in the dirt, and paced several times while he waited for an answer. Though he tried not to think about it, it was hard not to imagine the horrors that Crowley would be inflicting upon that poor woman, while he stood here helpless to do anything about it. He needed Cas, he needed help to find her. But his prayer was met by silence and the emptiness of the night air.

"Damnit, Cas!" Dean growled, resisting the urge to punch the dumpster that stood a foot away. Where was the angel when he needed him?

Dean was almost ready to give up when he heard the fluttering of wings behind him. "Hello Dean," Castiel's voice rasped.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed. God it sounded good to hear the angel's voice. He just wanted to close his eyes and let the sound of it wrap around him like a warm blanket. It had been far too long. Instead he exhaled a sigh of relief and turned to face his friend. "Where have you been? After everything that happened... and then you just fall of the face of the Earth."

The angel's face scrunched up as he considered Dean's words. "You can't fall off the Earth," he stated matter-of-factly. "That's impossible."

Dean laughed and shook his head. Some day he'd teach Cas all the little idioms and sayings in the English language, but not today. "Nevermind," he said with a wide, genuine smile. "Man, just tell me where you've been."

"I'm... I've been busy. In Heaven. There's a lot going on," Castiel explained awkwardly. "Now why did you call me here?"

Dean's eyes widened slightly. Cas was back in Heaven. That was news to him. As much as he would have loved to have asked him more about it, right now him and Sam were in a real bind. It would have to wait. "We need your help finding someone," Dean explained. "There's this woman. Her name is Jenna James. She's in trouble. Sam and I, we promised to keep her safe, but… Crowley, he took her."

Castiel sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can't help you look for some lost woman," he told him. There was an air of frustration and impatience in his voice.

"Cas, Crowley has her," Dean protested, taking a step closer to his friend. " _Crowley_. Do have any idea what he'll do to her?"

Castiel blinked. "He's a demon. I have an idea, yes," he replied evenly.

"Not just any demon. The King of Hell," Dean reminded him emphatically.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, I realize that, Dean."

Dean threw his hands in the air. "So help us!" he asked of the angel.

A deep frown marred Castiel's face as he looked intently at his friend. "I can't. I am truly sorry," he said sincerely. "There is a civil war going on in Hell. Malphas has returned, and he has found a very powerful weapon. A weapon that poses a threat to all of creation. I don't have time to look for some woman," he explained. "There are more important matters to deal with."

"Cas…" he was pleading now.

"All of creation, Dean," Castiel repeated firmly. "You do understand what that means, don't you?"

Dean sighed and ran his hands through his short, brown hair. "You're right. Look, I'm sorry I asked."

Castiel laid his hand lightly on Dean's shoulder. "Goodbye, Dean," he said, leaning in slightly and giving him a friendly nod.

In the blink of an eye, Dean found himself staring at the empty space that Cas had just occupied. The angel was gone, again. Try as hard as he might, Dean couldn't fight the feeling of rejection. It didn't matter that he knew that Cas had his own battles to fight, and that he wouldn't just abandon him without a good reason. Castiel was his closest friend, really his only close friend besides his brother, and family didn't count. As he turned back towards the bar, Dean's teeth ground and his fists clenched at his sides. He'd be damned if he was going to cry, even if no one was watching. Sam would be waiting back at the bar, and he didn't want any questions if he came back puffy-eyed. Besides, they had more important matters to deal with. He didn't know how, or even where to start, they had to keep looking. They had to find her.


	4. One Step Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter revamped 2017-08-25. If you have any feedback/suggestions/comments/critiques/whatever, I'd love to hear them. Reviews are always welcome and appreciated.

It had become known to the angels that Malphas, the Prince of Hell, had located a very powerful weapon, one that threatened all of creation. A task force had been created to deal with the threat, and Castiel, given his unique set of experience, had been asked to head the charge. For him, it was more than just a mission, more than just his duty. It was a form of repentance, and maybe, just maybe a way to earn the angels' forgiveness and be truly welcome back in Heaven.

It wasn't easy for the angel. There was so much history, and so much to be forgiven for. Then there was his relationship with the Winchesters, something the other angels would never understand. So when Dean had prayed to him, Castiel had stolen away with the hopes that no one would notice his absence, and no one did.

Now though, Castiel felt conflicted. He had gone because it was Dean, and only because it was Dean. Had it been anyone else, he would simply have ignored the call and remained focused on the mission. Even though he had gone to his friend, he just couldn't help him, not now, and there was a terrible feeling of guilt eating away at his gut. there was just too much at stake.

_Only all of creation..._

His eyebrows furrowed, leaving deep creases across his forehead. The mission, it was paramount. If Malphas truly had possession of the weapon, he had to be stopped, and it had to be found and destroyed before it could fall into the hands of anyone else. There was nothing of greater importance at the moment. Yet Dean had needed him. Dean who was his friend, perhaps his only true friend. And he had failed him.

"Castiel?" It was Hannah's voice that brought him back to the present.

"What is it?" Castiel croaked as he lifted his head. The strategy board across from where he was sitting came back into focus, then her face staring quizzically at him, framed by that straight chestnut hair.

"You were just… staring," Hannah observed. Her eyebrows drew together in concern and her body leaned in as if she wanted to go to him, but something held her back.

Castiel glanced around the room. All of the angels in his team were busy analyzing leads and pouring over data. The room practically hummed with activity. "I was… thinking," he replied slowly.

"About the mission?" Hannah asked, perkily.

"Yes," Castiel croaked, his throat feeling strangely dry and he tried to force out the lie. Hannah cocked her head to the side and eyed him suspiciously. "Have the angels made any progress locating Malphas and the... weapon?" Castiel asked in an attempt to divert her attention from him and back to the mission at hand.

Hannah frowned and glanced over her shoulder at a large map of the earth where various locations were being pinned. "Two of his demons were found dead at a motel near Gem, Kansas," she informed him. "Another one was spotted at the scene shortly after."

 _Gem, Kansas…_ That town rang a bell. Castiel stood up and strolled over to the map, his eyes squinting as he scrutinized the area. Hannah followed. Gem was only a couple of towns over from Selden, which is where he had met with Dean behind that bar. Where Dean had called to him asking for his help.

"I see," Castiel responded nodding mechanically, his eyes still focused on the map. "Any luck picking up the demon?"

Hannah shifted her weight from one foot to the other, standing to the right and slightly behind Castiel. "No, not yet," Hannah admitted. "But our best are working on it at we speak," she added reassuringly.

Castiel barely heard her. Once again his thoughts were with Dean.

* * *

After being abducted from the motel parking lot by the King of Hell, Jenna found herself in a world that kept getting more and more complicated. There were so many questions spinning around in her head: what role did she have in the demons' war; what wasn't Crowley telling her; how long was he going to keep her locked up here in his mansion, guarded by his demons; what would he do to her when he realized she wasn't whatever he thought she was.  _He'll kill me, that's what,_ Jenna thought and she exhaled a long, low sigh and let her shoulders slump.

Jenna's limbs felt too heavy to move, like they were made of lead, but she could not just sit here, alone, in Crowley's study indefinitely. After a good fifteen minutes she finally managed to muster the courage and the energy to move. When she opened the door and peered out of the study she found there was an expansive foyer on the other side. It was beautiful, with vaulted ceilings, stone pillars, and an intricate stone-work floor. The demon had expensive taste.

There were three demon guards patrolling the mansion, but none were in sight. Though Crowley had tried to sell them as her bodyguards, Jenna knew they were nothing more than her jailers. Boris was a large, muscled and tattooed man with a thick Russian accent. AJ was a young, dark and brooding African-American. The third was named Bennet: an older, unassuming gentleman, with fine lines surrounding his eyes. Yet despite appearances, they were all three demons.

 _His most trusted and loyal..._ Somehow Jenna doubted loyalty and trustworthiness were qualities one could attribute to a demon.

With no sign of her demon guards, Jenna took one tentative step into the foyer, then another. The front door stood unguarded, taunting her. On the other side, would be her freedom, at least that's what she hoped. Approaching the door cautiously, there was a nagging thought at the back of her head that this was all just too easy. Glancing around nervously one last time, Jenna reached out and tried the handle. It wasn't locked, but the door would not budge. As she struggled with the door, Jenna noticed a few faint glowing strands shimmering between the door and the frame. They reminded her of the demon wards when she had touched them back at the motel. More magic, she sighed then she turned around, leaned her back against the door and slid down to the floor where she cradled her head in her hands.

"There's no point," Bennet's broke through the silence, causing Jenna to startle, jerking her head upwards. The demon stood at the top of a long wooden stairway, a neutral expression on his face. His hand rested on the carved and polished handrail, in sharp contrast with his wrinkled and age-spotted skin. "You can not leave," he said, echoing the words expressed by Crowley back in the study. With his wispy grey hair and medium brown eyes, one could easily have been fooled into thinking him a harmless old man, but Jenna could see into him. She could see the blackness which swirled through his core.

"Where did you come from?" Jenna demanded, though her feigned irritation was not enough to mask the embarrassment at being caught trying to escape that was creeping onto her cheeks. In her head she wondered if he was just sneaky or if the other demons could teleport too. Crowley could, but he was the King of Hell. Something told her that was different.

"You'll find your room upstairs, first door on the left," Bennet said, ignoring her question. The demon stepped aside when he reached the bottom of the stairs and gestured for her to pass. That would put her room directly above the study, she realized.

Jenna clambered to her feet and stalked miserably past Bennet as she made her way up the stairs. At the end of the hall she caught sight of AJ just standing there watching. The demon did not hide his black eyes, and the way he stared silently at her as she moved made Jenna uneasy. She hurried into her room, and once she was through the door she shut it tightly. Leaning back against it she closed her eyes and exhaled a heavy breath. Realistically, she knew the door would do nothing to stop the demon, but having that barrier there, not being able to see those jet black eyes staring back at her, made her feel just a tiny bit better.

Then Jenna recalled what Sam had told her back in the motel when she had asked about the lines of salt that Dean had been pouring in front of the doors and windows. Perhaps that would stop them. If it did, then she could at least have one safe place in this prison disguised as a mansion. Later, when she had a chance, she would have to check the kitchen and see if there was any there.

With another heavy sigh, Jenna pushed herself away from the door and wandered into the room. It was big. That was her first thought. It was also nice. Much nicer than she would have expected for a demon's safe house. Everything was clean, spotless even, she realized, running her finger along the top of the solid cherry wood dresser. The bed was piled high with big fluffy pillows and a cream-colored down comforter. That's when she noticed something laid out on the bed. As she looked closer, she realized it was a stylish red dress. There was a note attached.

_Thought you might like to freshen up._

_There are clean towels in your ensuite._

_-Crowley_

The thought crossed her mind that the demon was just playing her, just trying to manipulate her and it very well may have been true. It was probably true. Okay, it most definitely was true. She knew that. As loathe as she was to play into Crowley's games and do as he wanted, the idea of a nice hot shower and some clean clothes was very enticing. After all, it was a luxury hardly afforded to her living on the streets. She supposed it couldn't hurt, not this once.

* * *

Without help in their search for the woman Crowley had kidnapped Sam and Dean returned to the motel in Gem to follow their only lead. As they had sat in The Roadside Bar outside of Selden, Sam had caught sight of a demon on the evening news stalking around the crime scene at the motel. It was, without a doubt, one of Malphas', probably following up when the two that attacked them had failed to report back. Perhaps since the Prince of Hell was also looking for Jenna, it might lead the Winchesters to her. It wasn't much, but it was all they had to go on.

Sam watched with tightly pursed lips as his brother walked back towards him from the sheriff's squad car. "Any luck with the names and addresses of those witnesses?" Sam asked as soon Dean got close enough and he was sure that they were out of earshot of the police officers. His older brother beamed, and Sam knew before Dean even held out the piece of paper, waving it in front of his face.

"All right here," Dead stated triumphantly.

"That's great," Sam replied with a smile and a half-nod. Then he paused, and scratched his chin. It was rough from just the bit of stubble that had grown over the last couple days. "Do you think our guy might actually be on there?," He asked, squinting and looking at his brother. "I mean, why would a demon actually talk to the police?"

The smile faded from Dean's face. "There's only one way to find out. It's the only lead we've got," he said, and Sam knew he was right. They had nothing else.

"Alright," Sam said. "Lets do this."

The two brothers fell in line, and walked side by side back towards the Impala that was parked across the street from the motel. They passed the squad cars, and Sam did a double take over his shoulder. Nudging Dean with his elbow he gestured with his head toward Sheriff Cochran. There was a deep frown marring the sheriff's face as he spoke into the radio.

"Think we should go check it out?" Sam asked. If there had been any new developments they really ought to find out. Every scrap of information was vital at this stage.

The sheriff rubbed repeatedly at his face and brow. "Something's definitely wrong," Dean observed. "Yeah, lets go."

Sheriff Cochran looked up as the two brothers approached and quickly wiped his hands on his pant legs. Hurriedly he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry agent Hetfield, agent Hammett, I'm afraid if you have any more questions you will have to come by the station tomorrow," he told them.

Dean put on his best serious face. "Is there a problem?" he asked. Sam couldn't help but notice how well his brother could pull off the FBI routine nowadays. It wasn't like when they were younger, practically kids barely out of high school, and Dean would get all these raised eyebrows and questioning looks. No one told him  _aren't you a little young_  anymore. No, they just bought it.

The sheriff's body slumped and he shook his head slowly from side to side, as if he couldn't quite believe the night he was having. Sam supposed that maybe he couldn't. After all, not much happened in these small towns. Not the sort of things where three bodies show up in one night, one of them with their throat slit and their blood drained.

"There's an incident in progress at a bar in Selden," Sheriff Cochran explained. "I don't have all the details yet, but it sounds bad. Dispatch has a car on the way, but they have contacted me to send backup."

A lump formed in the pit of Sam's stomach. They had just left Selden, not even an hour ago.

"It wouldn't happen to be The Roadside, would it?" Dean asked, voicing the same question that was nagging at Sam.

Sheriff Cochran nodded his grey eyes widening slightly in surprise. "How did you know?" he asked.

"Call it a hunch," Dean muttered. When he turned to Sam, there was so much said unspoken. They were brothers. They'd grown up together in this life, and at times it was like they could just read each other without saying so much as a word. They had to go. Now.

As they hurried back to the Impala, Sam glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot. "Do you think it's our demon?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Dean's face was set in a hard line. "I know it is," he replied.

Neither brother said a word as Dean raced the Impala back towards Selden. There was nothing either could say that the other wasn't already thinking. When they'd stopped at The Roadside Bar it had been to rest and regroup. Never had it occurred to them that they might be putting the staff or patrons in danger, yet it seemed that was exactly what they had done. Death had a way of following them around, and touching anyone who got near them. Sometimes they both wondered if what they did was worth it, if they actually saved more people than they harmed.

Sam's heart sank as Dean skidded the Impala to a sliding stop in the gravel parking lot at the bar. Closing his eyes he exhaled the breath he had been holding. Any hope he had been hanging on to evaporated the second he laid eyes on the scene. There was one police car on scene, presumably the first responder that had called to dispatch for back up. It's lights were still flashing red and blue, but everything else outside the bar was still and silent. The officers, dead.

One of the officers, a slightly overweight man in his mid forties with a receding hairline, lay dead on the ground about five yards in front of the squad car. All of his limbs were facing in the wrong directions like a Mr. Potato Head toy that was put together wrong. The other officer, a brunette woman who appeared to have been in her late twenties, hung limply over the open door of their car. She had been eviscerated and her intestines dangled grotesquely from her body, pooling onto the ground. There was so much blood.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed hardly waiting for the car to come to a complete stop before he threw himself out the door. No sooner did his feet hit the ground and he launched himself towards the front door of the bar.

Sam popped the trunk and quickly grabbed some supplies: holy water, the demon cuffs with the devil's trap carved into them, an angel blade. Then he turned and booked it across the parking lot to the front door where Dean was waiting for him, his face contorted in anguish. When he got a bit closer he understood why. From inside he could hear the blood-curdling screams of torment followed by choked sobs as the victim begged and pleaded for mercy. The voice seemed familiar. Oh God. "Clayton?" Sam mouthed silently at his brother, who gave a curt nod. Sam's face twitched. He'd spent time in the cage with Lucifer, he knew all about torture, and his stomach churned knowing what that demon was doing to the bartender. At least, he thought, he was still alive.

"You ready to do this?" Dean growled his voice low so that the demon inside would not hear and know they were there.

Sam glanced down and saw the demon blade gripped tightly in Dean's hand. "Remember, we need to take it alive, it's all we've got" he reminded his brother.

"I know, Sammy," Dean said, giving him that look. It was the same look he always gave Dean whenever he was treating him like a baby.

"Okay," Sam said with a nod. In the next moment the two of them burst through the door in unison, like you'd see in the action movies.

On the other side they were met by a gruesome scene. Everyone was dead, their bodies strewn about the room. Some sat slumped in their chairs, their throats slit. Others, lay disemboweled on the floor, which was slick with their blood. Worse yet, there were limbs and heads, and bits and pieces everywhere. It would take a forensic team a month to piece everything back together and figure out what went with who, if they could even sort it all out.

Except for Clayton. The bartender was still alive, but by the sight of him, he probably wished he wasn't. The demon had him strung up by his wrists from a beam in the ceiling. His clothes had all been removed, and his body was covered in bruises, welts, and lacerations. His face was unrecognizable from the swelling, and he definitely had a broken nose. Sam doubted that was the only broken bone in his body. The demon had really done a number on him even in the short time he had been there.

"Ah, Sam and Dean Winchester," the demon hissed, one hand still on Clayton, the other holding the blade he had been using to carve him up. "Just who I was looking for."

Dean stared past the creature at the battered bartender. "Hang in there Clayton. We're going to get you out of here," he assured him.

"It'll be hard to do that when you're dead," the demon snickered.

"You musn't have heard the stories," Dean retorted as he turned the demon blade over in his hand, making sure that the demon saw it and understood what it was.

"Oh, I have heard all about you," the demon assured him, releasing Clayton from his grip and taking a step towards the brothers. "There's going to be a big promotion for me when I'm the one to take down Sam and Dean Winchester. First though, we have some business to attend to."

"Blah, blah, blah," Dean mocked, rolling his eyes and making a yapping motion with his hands. "Do you ever shut up?"

The demon's eyes turned a solid black and it cracked its neck as it advanced further towards them. Sam gulped nervously. His brother was just egging the thing on.

Dean charged in the demon blade gripped tightly in his hand and all all of his body weight leaning forward, though Sam noticed that he made no attempt to stick the demon with it and he understood it was just for appearances. For appearances, or in case they got themselves into trouble and needed an out. The demon stepped aside and grabbed Dean, tossing him like a rag doll. Over and over and over again.

"You don't live up to your reputation, do you?" The demon gloated. "And your brother? More pathetic than a wet rag."

Sam pursed his lips and swallowed hard. It wasn't easy standing by and watching Dean be hurt by the demon. On any other day he would have just killed it. It would have been easy. But he understood what Dean was doing, as he tried to keep the demon distracted, fighting him, while Sam waited for an opportunity.

The demon tossed Dean once more and slammed his back hard into a wall. With the wind knocked out of him, Dean collapsed to his knee. Confidently, the demon walked over, leaned down and wrapped a fist around Dean's neck. Squeezing tight enough to make Dean's eyes bulge, it lifted him off the ground and held him pressed against the wall.

"Oh yes," it hissed. "I am going to enjoy this."

Sam lurched forwards, unable to continue to watch his brother be beaten by this black-eyed freak, but the demon reached back and struck him square in the gut with super-human force. Sam doubled over and felt like he was going to vomit from the impact.

"I hope you don't tell me where the woman is," the demon told Dean. "Not right away at least because I want to savor making you scream."

Dean was still in the demon's grasp, his feet dangling against the wall. "A little help here, Sammy," he choked out.

Still hunched over, Sam unscrewed the lid on the holy water. Pretending to stumble in pain so he would appear nonthreatening, he managed to edge a little closer to the demon. In one fluid motion he stood to his full height and doused the creature with the holy water. It hissed and writhed, dropping Dean, as the liquid burned its skin leaving lesions and blisters in its wake. It was all the opportunity that Dean needed. He charged, tackling the demon to the ground.

"Now!" he shouted at his brother.

With cat-like speed and agility, Sam leaped in and snapped the handcuffs around the demon's wrists. There was an audible click and both him and Dean looked at each other and exhaled a sigh of relief.

"What have you done?" The demon snarled. Neither brother bothered to honor it with a response. In those handcuffs it was trapped and its powers were useless. There would be no smoking out. No escaping. He was their prisoner now.

Dean clambered back to his feet and began to dust himself off. "Took you long enough," Dean muttered to Sam.

Sam exhaled sharply, making a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. He shook his head at Dean. "Dude, you didn't make it easy. It's not like we could just kill it," he told him. "Now come on, help me get Clayton down. We need to get him to a hospital."

Dean glanced back at the bartender and shuddered. A hospital would fix up his broken bones and stitch his wounds, but he'd spent his time in Hell, and he knew that not all of the scars that poor kid would be left with would be physical. Sam knew too, there were some things that just couldn't be fixed and stayed with you for the rest of your life.

He turned and gave a scathing look at the demon who had moments earlier gleefully been torturing the young man. "As soon as we get Clayton to a hospital, we're taking this sack of shit back to the bunker and I'm going to have a little chat with it, one on one," Dean told Sam. "And I'm going to enjoy every freakin' minute of it. Payback's a bitch." The demon, who had been struggling futilely with the cuffs, paused for just a moment and both brothers knew that it was fear it felt. And it should.

* * *

Back in his safe house, Crowley stood silently in the entrance way to the kitchen watching his newest acquisition, who was oblivious to his presence. There was a swelling hope inside his chest that she was what the rumors said she was. If it was true, she would make a powerful ally and an indispensable asset. Only time would tell.

The woman stood at the granite counter eating the Chinese food that he had left for her in the fridge, fumbling uncoordinatedly with the chopsticks that had come in the bag. Cleaned up, she hardly resembled the woman he had kidnapped from the motel. Her straight red hair, no longer dirty and matted, was pulled back into a loose ponytail. It glistened a silky copper under the overhead lighting. Her pale skin, cleaned of all the dirt and grime, was dotted with freckles, especially over the bridge of her nose. She was short, maybe 5'3" if she was lucky, and small-framed but not too skinny.

The red dress that Crowley had left out for her, fit her perfectly. The sleeves, sitting slightly off the shoulder, exposed her delicate collar bones. She wasn't large-chested, but the style accentuated her natural curves. It was tastefully long, ending just below her knobby knees. Though she wasn't Crowley's type, she didn't have the long legs and the big breasts of a porn-star, or the face of a model, she wasn't unattractive.

He watched her for a while. Everything about her was so very human. She was awkward, and uncertain, and fearful. Hardly what he would have expected considering what she was supposed to be. Yet, when he had told her she was different he had seen it in her eyes. She was, and she knew it. Maybe she didn't know how or why, but she knew that there was something different about her.

"Finding everything you need, Red?" Crowley asked. The woman jumped at the sound of his voice and dropped her chopsticks on the floor, and he chuckled in amusement.

"Everything, except my freedom," she retorted. He supposed she had meant to sound tough and defiant, but her voice trembled and her eyes flitted away for the briefest moment. Her eyes, which were a pale blue, the same color that ice turned when put under enough pressure. If everything else about her was simply average, those eyes were incredible he realized, and for a strange moment he found himself lost in them.

Regaining his composure, Crowley grinned and cocked his head to the side. "Freedom is over-rated," he told her. "Free gets you dead, and we don't want that do we now, Red?"

The woman gave him her best, though thoroughly unconvincing, glare in response. "My name's Jenna," she told him.

Crowley ignored her objection. "Look, I know that you aren't exactly pleased with our little arrangement, but believe me, I am trying to help you," heexplained. "I rescued you from Malphas' demons. I think a thank you is in order, don't you?" It wasn't exactly a lie. He did want to keep her safe, even if it was only for his benefit.

Jenna scoffed. "I didn't need your help. Sam and Dean…"

"Got you into that mess in the first place!" Crowley cut across her. "If those two useless lumps of sod had half a brain between them, they never would have let you out of their sight. I can protect you. I can keep you safe."

The woman stared back at him, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head slowly from side to side. "Why?" she asked, and it was a good question. After all, he was a demon.

"All in due time, love," Crowley told her. "All in due time." He wasn't ready to share his secrets yet. Not until he knew for sure if she was what he hoped she was.

The woman exhaled heavily and slumped her shoulders. "So you're just going to keep me locked up here?" she asked.

"I could arrange a cage for you, if you'd prefer," Crowley offered, arching an eyebrow slightly. "I'm trying to be accommodating here, Red. The least you could do is meet me in the middle." Of course, that would be more what she would expect from a demon, but he was only teasing. Well, mostly. The idea of her being his pet, locked in a cage, was somewhat appealing. However, it would not be good business strategy, not at this point in time. No, he wanted her to be comfortable. He wanted to win her over.

Jenna sighed. "Fine," she relented, as she let he head drop in defeat. It wasn't like she really had any choice in the matter anyways.

Crowley reached out and took her chin in his hand, tilting her head back up to face him. Her skin was so soft. "Don't be so glum," he told her. "It really isn't all that bad. Whatever you need, just ask, and it's yours."

"My freedom," the woman tried again, and Crowley had to give her points for perseverance.

"Anything except for that," he corrected himself.

"Actually," Jenna said hesitantly, twirling her foot on the ground. "I wouldn't mind being able to cook."

Crowley tilted his head to the side. "Did you not like the food?" he asked. "Perhaps you would prefer something else. Whatever you want, it's yours."

"The food was fine," Jenna answered hurriedly. "It's just, I like to cook but the kitchen is empty. Once, a long, long time ago, I actually wanted to own my own restaurant some day," she divulged and Crowley wondered why she was telling him this. "It would give me something to do, since I'm stuck here. Something to keep my mind off..." she let her words trail, but Crowley knew what she meant. It would help distract her from the fear being the King of Hell's prisoner. He sighed, he didn't want her to fear him.

"Consider it done," Crowley told her. How did the saying go,  _you catch more flies with honey than vinegar_.

* * *

By the time that the angels had tracked the demon down and Castiel had followed up ending up once again at The Roadside Bar, he knew that he was too late. He did not have to search the premises to know that Malphas' demon was already gone: he was able to sense the absence of the demon's presence. All Castiel was left with were questions. Coincidence wasn't something he believed in. So why did the demon go to the same bar where he had met earlier with Dean? Where was the demon now? And what did any of this have to do with Malphas' war with Crowley? If only he had some answers.


	5. The Thing That Should Not Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter revamped 2017-08-29. Hope you're enjoying it. Please let me know what you think!

 

At The Roadside Bar, Sam and Dean had rescued Clayton and captured the demon who had been torturing him. After taking Clayton to Selden General Hospital, the brothers had made the long drive back to the Men of Letters' bunker in Lebanon. There, they locked the demon up in the dungeon for questioning. Naturally, the job fell to Dean.

Slowly, the hunter circled the chair in the middle of the room where the demon was bound in special chains inscribed with a devil's trap, in case the etched on the floor wasn't enough. Maybe it was overkill, but when dealing with demons one couldn't be too sure. This black-eyed bastard wasn't going anywhere. He was helpless, powerless, and even unable to leave his meatsuit. Here, he belonged to Dean.

Hours had passed as Dean questioned the demon, as he tortured it mercilessly. In the beginning the demon had responded with jabbing remarks and mocking laughter, but bit by bit it's resolve was wavering. Cracks were starting to show. There were down sides to practical immortality, you see, one was that there was no hope of death. Unless Dean chose to ram the demon blade into it's blackened heart, the pain and the suffering would go on endlessly. That thought alone, that utter and complete lack of hope, Dean knew, was worse than anything he could do to the demon. He'd learned that all too well during his time in Hell.

"I'm going to ask you this again," Dean said, his back to the demon as he slowly wiped the blood from the blade he was using. The chains rattled as the demon shifted it's weight, and the hunter smiled to himself. Oh yes, he had been good at this. He was good at this. "I'm going to keep asking until you tell me, and you will tell me. Trust me on that." Dean continued, as he wiped the smile from his face before turning around. His voice was cold and dead pan. "What is Malphas's plan? Why is he after the woman?"

Silence.

Dean shrugged and pressed the blade firmly against the demon's already flayed flesh. "Have it your way," he told the creature. "I can do this all day. Heck, I can do this all week."

The demon recoiled from the blade, and flattened itself as much as it could into the chair where it was bound. "Wait," it hissed.

"I'm not waiting," Dean snorted. "Either you start talking, or I start cutting."

The meatsuit's blue eyes disappeared, replaced by solid black and the demon's lip curled. "Have your fun now, but when Malphas rules, you will bow," it warned. "You will all bow."

"Not the answer I was looking for," Dean said, as he shook his head in disappointment. A smile twitched on his lips as he dug the tip of his blade under the demon's collar bone and he watched it writhe and squirm and listened to it scream. Just because demons were essentially immortal, save for a handful of weaknesses, didn't mean that they didn't feel pain. They felt it all right.

"You will bow!" The demon shouted defiantly through gritted teeth.

Dean shook his head and snorted again. "No, I don't think so," he disagreed. "Even if Malphas wins this war with Crowley and rules Hell, what do I care? I will never bow to him."

The demon stared at Dean then glanced down towards the blade that was still inserted into his flesh. Dean considered it for a moment, this black-eyed bastard deserved to suffer, but he needed answers too. After a moment he relented and withdrew the blade. "Malphas won't just rule Hell. He will rule everything," the demon told him. "And anyone or anything that defies him will be erased."

That sounded unlikely. No doubt the Prince of Hell was powerful, but he wasn't that powerful. "He's going to erase them?" Dean repeated and the demon nodded. "And tell me, just how does he plan on doing that?"

"There is a weapon," the demon panted hastily.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What weapon?" he asked.

The demon leaned forwards in it's chains, getting closer to Dean. "A very powerful one," it said in a low voice.

The demon wasn't telling Dean anything he didn't already know. Castiel had told Dean back at the bar that Malphas had found a weapon that posed a threat to all existence. It must be the same weapon that the demon was talking about now. "You're stalling," Dean said and he stabbed the blade into the demon's shoulder. The chains went taut as the creature tried futilely to escape the pain when Dean twisted the blade. The hunter did not so much as flinch as he watched. "What does the woman have to do with any of this?" he demanded.

The demon began to laugh. "You had her in your grasp, and you didn't even know. You didn't even know… you had her and you didn't…" What had started as a laugh became a hysterical sound at the brink of sanity.

The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood on end. A panicked voice rose in the back of his mind. What hadn't he known?

* * *

Though Crowley claimed to want to help her, Jenna didn't trust him. Not even a little bit. After all, he was a demon. For the time being though, she was his prisoner and like it or not she wasn't going anywhere. There was no point in moping around. She sifted through the wardrobe he had left for her and picked out some cargo pants and a loose fitting, sleeveless grey shirt. To her surprise, they fit perfectly, just like the dress he'd left for her.

Dressed and ready for her day, or as ready as one could be when kidnapped by the King of Hell with no idea what to expect, she headed down to the kitchen. It pleased her to find that Crowley had kept his word and it was fully stocked. It pleased her, and it puzzled her. It didn't make sense to her why a demon would go through the trouble to try and keep her happy when he could, as he'd pointed out, just as easily throw her in a cage. Whatever it was he thought she was, which she wasn't she reminded herself, wouldn't it have been simpler for him to just make her do what he wanted rather than play this little game. He was a demon, the King of Hell, and she didn't stand a chance next to him. He could hurt her and do what he wanted, and she would have no choice but to obey.

Of course, she was much happier to be standing there making bacon, eggs, and hash browns. Even if she couldn't leave Crowley's safe house, at least so far the demon was going out of his way, rather than being cruel. From the cupboard she pulled out salt and pepper, which she sprinkled on the eggs she was cooking sunny side up. With a quick glance around to make sure none of her demon captors were present, she then pocketed the salt. Maybe it would come in handy if what Sam had told her back at the motel was true and demons couldn't cross it.

"Better?" Crowley's voice boomed from behind her and Jenna jumped. Somehow he always managed to sneak up on her. Every. Single. Time.

When she turned around she found him leaning back in his chair at the dining room table, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap. As always he was smartly dressed in a perfectly fitting black suit and overcoat. Today he wore a patterned blue tie. A detail, Jenna realized, she should not have even noticed. There was just something about him. He was undeniably attractive, with the suits, and the neatly trimmed beard, and that devilish grin. Despite all her better judgement she found him handsome and charming and somehow that made things worse. If he was hideous and vile, at least when she looked at him it would be easier to remember what he truly was.

Crowley tilted his head to the side as he watched her from the dining room. Cool, calm and collected: he was exactly the opposite of how she felt at the moment. "Ever hear of knocking?" Jenna snapped defensively. She could feel the heat rushing to her freckled cheeks. If he had seen her pocket the salt, surely he would have known why. Surely he would have said something.

"Knock?" Crowley repeated, arching an eyebrow. "In my own house? I'm the King of Hell, love. I don't knock."

Like a thermometer left in a hot car in the middle of summer, Jenna's heart rate kept climbing steadily into dangerous territory. Sweat began to bead on her forehead and she grabbed a tea towel to wipe it away. He'd seen her take the salt, she convinced herself. He had to have. What should she do now, should she apologize, should she beg for mercy?

"You're going to burn your breakfast," Crowley stated evenly. "Unless, of course, you like the taste of charcoal."

Jenna fumbled, her hands still trembling as she turned off the stove and removed the pan from the heat. She should just stop, she knew that, but she tried anyways because she needed to be doing something. So she grabbed a spatula and scooped the eggs onto her plate, but as her hand shook it bumped the edge and sent the whole thing plummeting to the floor. The plate shattered against the stone and the food scattered. "I'm sorry," Jenna mumbled hastily, as she bent down and began to scoop everything up.

Crowley was there before she even realized he had moved. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't just teleported the fifteen feet from the chair. He snapped his fingers and the mess was gone. Where it had been spotless. "Sorry for what?" he asked.

Jenna shook her head and stared at the floor unable to form a coherent answer. Her apology wasn't for breaking the plate and making a mess. It was for stealing the salt with the intent to use it against him, but she couldn't tell him that. She just couldn't. He was a demon and she was too afraid. Her body began to quiver and she felt the tears welling up in her eyes.

In an instant Crowley was crouched down on the floor with her and she wished he would just go away. All she wanted to do was run, but she had nowhere to go. Like fire against her skin, his fingers brushed against her pulse as he cupped her chin in his hand. Involuntarily her eyes squeezed shut and she flinched at the touch. "Your heart is pounding," he observed.

It was true. Jenna could barely hear him over the noise of her blood rushing in her ears. Several times she opened her mouth to try and speak, but found she couldn't. Instead, she reached into her pocket and took out the salt shaker, and without looking at him placed it in the demon's hand. It was her admission of guilt. Head bowed, she waited for the fallout.

Crowley turned the salt shaker over in his hand then slipped it back into the pocket of her cargo pants and pulled her to her feet. There were only inches between their two bodies and Jenna could feel the heat radiating off of him. "You don't have to fear me, Red," he whispered in her ear.

Oh how she wished that was true! But he was the King of Hell and she did fear him. Having mustered all of the courage she could, Jenna finally looked up and searched the demon's eyes for any sign that he was angry with her. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, because she was met by only his bemused smile and soft, brown gaze.

* * *

It had been too late by the time that Castiel had tracked Malphas's demon back to The Roadside Bar. There, he had found only more questions that kept playing in his mind now that he had returned to Heaven. Somehow Sam and Dean were connected to Malphas and the weapon, that much was clear. But how?

Standing in the war room, pouring over the link board amidst the hustle and bustle of all the angels working the case brought back memories of when Castiel had tried to lead an army against Metatron. He hadn't wanted to be a leader then. He didn't want to be one now. But Jehoel and the other angels had offered him forgiveness. They had told him if he did this, he would be welcome back with open arms. It was more than he could ask for. More than he deserved.

There was a list of the dead from The Roadside Bar pinned on the link board. Castiel's eyebrows furrowed as he examined the names. None of them meant anything to him. There was no connection between any of them and the prophecy. It didn't make sense. If only he had got there sooner. If only he had captured the demon.

Something was missing. He just needed to put his finger on what. "Were there any survivors," he asked, as he turned to Hannah. Perhaps if there were, they could help him piece together the puzzle. Somewhere there was a missing link that would make everything else make sense.

Hannah shuffled through her notes. It was still strange that she was here, alive after he had watched her die, although maybe not so strange. Castiel himself had been brought back after Lucifer had destroyed him. Who was he to think that God would have any less reason to bring Hannah back, when he had brought him back and look at what he had done with that gift. Look at the suffering and the death that he had caused. At least Hannah had her priorities straight. Her loyalties weren't divided between Heaven and humanity, between her kin and the Winchesters.

Hannah found the paper she was looking for and looked up. "One," she told him. "A Clayton Johnson."

Castiel's chest swelled. This might be exactly the break they needed. This might be the missing piece. "Where is he now?" he asked excitedly.

Hannah glanced back down at her notes. "Selden General Hospital." That was all he needed to know. There was a fluttering of wings, and Castiel was gone.

Clayton's was the only occupied bed in the hospital room where Castiel found him. The angel supposed that was fortunate, as it meant that he would not need to erase the memory of any witnesses. There was a chart at the end of Clayton's bed. For a reason unknown to him, he picked it up, glanced down at it and put it back. Maybe it was all those times hunting with Sam and Dean starting to wear off on him, pretending to be FBI agents, gas inspectors, priests, and doctors. But as an angel Castiel didn't need a hospital chart to tell him what injuries the young man had sustained. He could see every damaged cell.

Clayton groaned and lifted his head slightly when he finally became aware of the angel's presence. His face looked like it had been put through a meat grinder and his eyes were all but swollen shut. It was unlikely he could see much at all. "Are you a doctor?" he asked.

"No. I'm an angel of the lord," Castiel stated matter of factly as he stood at the side of the bed.

The young man laughed, then coughed and clutched his side. One of his lungs had been punctured by a broken rib. "Wow man, these must be some pretty good drugs they're giving me," he wheezed, gesturing to the IV connected to his other arm.

Castiel rolled his eyes, placed his hand on Clayton's forehead, and healed his injuries. "Do you believe me now?" he asked impatiently.

Clayton sat bolt upright in his hospital bed, his eyes wide and jaw slack. Slowly, meticulously he ran his hands over his body. He felt his chest, but the deep gouges of the demon's knife had vanished. He pressed where his ribs had been broken, but there was no pain. Air flowed freely into his lungs as he inhaled deeply. Bringing his hands to his face he felt around in amazement: his lips were no longer split, his nose no longer crooked and broken, and his eyes no longer swollen almost shut. "How, how did you…?" he stammered.

Castiel suppressed an exasperated sigh. "I told you. I am an angel of the lord."

The patient looked him up and down with his bright blue eyes that matched Castiel's own. "What… what do you want from me?" Clayton asked his voice trembling.

Castiel squinted and looked around to make sure they were still alone. "The thing that attacked you was a demon," he explained. "I need to know what it wanted."

Clayton licked his lips and looked down at his hands, which fidgeted anxiously in his lap. Castiel may have been able to heal his physical woulds, but the torture that he had endured would have left metal scars as well. Regrettably , Castiel could not erase those memories from his mind, because he still needed the information from him.

"He... the demon... it was asking about Sam and Dean Winchester," Clayton told him. "He... it wanted to know if they had a red-headed woman with them when they came to the bar."

"A woman?" Castiel choked out. A woman like the one that Dean had asked him to help him find. Like the one who had been kidnapped by Crowley.

Clayton swallowed. "Yes. The thing... it kept asking me over and over and over again. It..." his voice broke off, unable to put words to what he had experienced.

"I see," Castiel said, and he reached out and touched the young man's forehead, mercifully making him forget everything since the demon walked into the bar.

"You see what?" Clayton asked, a puzzled expression on his face. "Who are you anyways?"

"It doesn't matter," Castiel told him as he turned to leave. "Just get some rest. You'll be fine." All at once everything became clear to the angel. How could he have been so blind, so naive. He had to find Dean. He had to warn him.

* * *

Every moment of every day was met by uncertainty. Jenna was physically exhausted from worrying. The constant anxiety, the constant pulling inside her chest like it was going to collapse in on itself, was more than she could bear. Crowley could tell her she didn't need to fear him until he was blue in the face, but she was still afraid. She needed to get out of here. She needed to escape.

Firmly, she pressed her ear to her bedroom door and listened for any sign of her demon jailors, or for the King of Hell himself, as he had a habit of showing up at the most inopportune times. Usually though, if he was around, he was in his study. His study which was just below her room. Frantically she tried to recall if her door hinges squeaked before she opened it, but she didn't remember it making any noise. To her great relief she was right.

Jenna scanned the hallway and saw no sign of any activity, so she tiptoed like a mouse down the stairs and back to the front door. Once again, she found it magically sealed. Frustrated and desperate, she turned to one of the display tables that sat in a corner, home to some ancient looking vase. Removing the vase and placing it on the ground, she picked up the table and swung it as hard as she could at the tall window next to the door and immediately ducked in anticipation of the shattering glass. Except the table just bounced off the surface, leaving a shimmering ripple where it had struck.

Once more she grabbed the door handle and tugged frantically at it, but it wouldn't budge. Her eyes turned towards the ceiling, towards Heaven, if there was a Heaven. Prayer had never been her thing, she had never believed in God, but if demons were real, then maybe so was he. Maybe he was listening. "What good is it to be able to see something if I can't do anything about it?" she asked.

The answer she received made her jump, but it wasn't God's voice. It was Crowley's. "Tell me, Red, what is it that you see?"

Jenna spun around and saw the demon standing by the stairs, illuminated only by the moonlight that poured through the tall window she'd just tried to smash. Whether it was the lighting or the adrenaline, he looked bigger, more imposing, more dangerous. "How do you always do that?" she stammered.

"A magician never gives away his tricks," Crowley winked at her.

"But-"

"Oh no," Crowley cut across wickedly. "We aren't changing the subject, deary. I want to talk about you. Now tell me what it is you see," he told her, his voice low.

"I…" Jenna gulped and took a step backwards as the demon approached her and she found herself with her back pressed against the front door. Crowley placed one hand on the door on either side of her, and caged her in with his body. He had her trapped. There was nowhere to go, and nowhere to run.

"Don't make me ask again," He warned, leaning in his breath hot against her cheek. Underneath his cologne, Jenna could just make out the masked scent of sulfur. Red flashed through his eyes and her knees began to tremble.

"I… I…" She stammered, tears welling in the corner of her eyes. All she wanted to do was run. All she had ever wanted to do was to run. She had never asked for this, yet no matter how bad she wanted to be and no matter what she tried, she would never be normal.

"Spit it out," Crowley growled impatiently.

"I don't know how to explain it," Jenna whimpered.

The demon let out an exasperated sigh. "Just try," he instructed.

Jenna tried to think, but it was hard with him so close that she could feel the heat of him. It was hard when she looked into his eyes and saw not brown, human eyes staring back, but the red glow that terrified her. The red glow that reminded her, unequivocally, what he was. "I see," she started. "I see something, holding the door shut, but I don't know what it is. It looks like iridescent strands, but they're changing and their not and... See I told you, it makes no sense."

"Oh, it makes sense," Crowley hissed excitedly. "And you see more don't you, Red? Tell me what you see."

Jenna swallowed, her fingers grasping at the hem of her shirt. He was so close. Looking down she tried to focus on her feet, on anything but the demon blocking her escape, and especially on anything other than the red that burned in his eyes. Crowley traced a finger like fire along her throat, up under her chin and tilted her head up towards him. There was nothing else she could do. "I… I see your soul," she told him.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Crowley asked as he took a step back, dropped his arms and released her. With his shoulders back and back straight, the demon surveyed her, a pleased expression on his face.

Freed, Jenna's body sagged against the door and almost crumpled to the floor. Her knees wobbled and her hands trembled. She was teetering on the edge, her body ready to burst into tears. "What does it mean?" She asked.

"What it means, love," Crowley told her, "is that you are The Thing That Should Not Be."


	6. Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-01. If you're enjoying this, or you have any suggestions how I can improve, please leave me a quick review.

Half the night Dean had spent interrogating the demon he and Sam had captured. Through all the torture he had made no real progress nor gained any real actionable intelligence. All he was left with was a babbling demon in a broken meatsuit and dark sense of foreboding. _You had her in your grasp and you didn't even know._ Dean could still hear the demon's insane laughter. Even the memory left the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

After grabbing a couple hours shut-eye, Dean got up and began getting ready to start all over again. He sat himself down across the table from his younger brother and poured himself a bowl of cereal. "Anything?" he asked, hoping that maybe Sam would have had more luck than himself.

There was a green smoothie sitting untouched on the table next to Sam. He had had his head buried nose deep in the morning newspaper. _Slaughter at The Roadside Bar Leaves Selden Reeling_ , the headline read. "No," Sam replied, shaking his head slowly as he placed the newspaper down on the table. He sat stiffly as he watched his brother digging into his bowl of cereal with gusto.

"We really need a break on this," Dean said between mouthfuls of food, barely glancing up to look at Sam as he spoke.

Sam brought his hand up and rubbed his jaw. "How about you?" he asked. "Do you think you're going to get anything useful from Malphas' demon?"

Dean swallowed a mouthful of food and put down his spoon. Considering how the previous night had ended he had serious doubts. The demon had broken, but not in the way he had hoped. Instead of telling him what he needed to know, it just babbled incoherently and laughed that laugh that made Dean shudder. Letting out a defeated sigh he shook his head. "No, Sammy. I don't, and that's what worries me."

Sam pressed his lips together and nodded. They were already grasping at straws. The demon was the last lead they had.

Suddenly Dean jupped to his feet. "Cas!" He exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The angel stood stiffly at the bottom of the stairs from the bunker entrance. He wore his typical trench coat with a grave expression on his face. "Have you located the woman?" He asked, his face pinched as he looked from one brother to the other.

"No," Sam answered. Then he did a double take and regarded Castiel with a puzzled expression. "Wait, how did you know?"

Castiel tilted his head and looked from Sam to his brother. "Dean didn't tell you?" He inquired innocently. Great, Dean thought. Some day he'd have to explain the concept of a little white lie to Cas and that sometimes it would be better to just not say anything at all.

Sam looked from the angel to his older brother. "Tell me what?" He asked. The tone he used was accusatory and he made no attempt to hide it.

"Back at the bar, okay?" Dean admitted begrudgingly. "I called Cas. I asked him for help." It wasn't easy for him to admit. After all, he was the big brother, the one who was supposed to have it all together.

Sam huffed and shook his head and Dean knew what he was thinking. It was so like him and after all these years here they were still keeping secrets. For Sam it wouldn't be a big deal. So what, he'd say. So you asked Cas for help. There was nothing wrong with that. Except Sam didn't understand how weak it made him feel, how much it scared him that maybe he didn't have it all figured out, that he couldn't do it on his own, and what if that meant he wasn't strong enough to protect Sam. It was a whole can of worms he didn't want to get into.

"I thought you didn't have time to help 'look for some lost woman'?" Dean reminded Cas, letting the bitterness in his tone distract from the fact that he was hiding things from his little brother once again. "Aren't you looking for Malphas and his weapon. You know, the one that threatens all creation. Dean folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot on the ground as he stared at his friend. I needed you, he wanted to shout. I needed your help and you just left me.

"Yeah, about that," Castiel replied gravely. The angel always looked serious, but right now he looked more serious than usual. Dean knew whatever came next wouldn't be good. "It turns out the woman, she is the weapon," Castiel informed them.

"What?" Sam asked, leaning his neck in as he stared at Castiel. "Are you sure?"

Unfolding his arms, Dean let them fall to his sides. The reaction he felt to this news was the same as his brother. It couldn't be true. Somehow he must have misheard. Castiel must have been mistaken. When he spoke next his words echoed Sam's disbelief, "I'm sorry Cas, I thought you just said that Jenna is the weapon."

"Yes. The woman you seek, she is the weapon," Castiel confirmed matter-of-factly. "We need to find her. We need to find her and we need to kill her."

Dean's jaw dropped then snapped shut like a venus fly trap snatching its prey. "Whoa. Hold on a minute there, Cas!" He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands for him to slow down. "We're not killing Jenna. We're trying to help her," Dean reminded him.

"We have to, Dean," Castiel protested his eyebrows pinching together in all seriousness. "All of creation depends upon it."

"No," Dean objected his face contorted in horror and disgust. How could Cas even suggest such a thing. "Just no," he repeated shaking his head.

"Dean's right Cas, we swore we would protect her. There has to be another way. I mean, she seemed pretty harmless. More scared than anything," Sam said. "Has she actually done anything?" He asked as he drew his eyebrows together and watched the angel, waiting for his response.

There was an awkward silence. "She has not," Castiel admitted.

"Well then…" Sam encouraged, still sitting at the table, his eyes lit up with hope. Dean felt it too. Surely the angel had to see how wrong what he was saying was.

Castiel planted his feet firmly on the ground. "You don't understand…" he protested.

So apparently he didn't get it. "What don't we understand?" Dean growled. This wasn't hard, come on man, he thought as he stood there, feet wide and chin held high. How could Cas seriously believe that this was an acceptable course of action? The angel may be his friend, his best friend, but Dean shot him an angry glare.

With an exasperated sigh, Castiel sat down in one of the chairs across from Sam. Though he looked to Dean, the older hunter was too angry to sit and paced back and forth in the small space. "Twenty eight years ago there was a prophet," Castiel began. "The prophecy was: 'The Thing That Should Not Be shall be born, and it will wield the power to unravel all of creation.' Dean, she is The Thing That Should Not Be. She will destroy creation."

There was no way. Dean had seen the woman, he had met her. In his line of work he'd seen a lot of evil, and she wasn't evil. Jenna was just a homeless woman, dealt a raw deal in life because of her strange sight. While him and Sam didn't have any answers about her unusual power, he didn't believe for a moment that it meant what Cas was suggesting it did. "We're not killing her on the word of some nut job from twenty eight years ago," he objected, his voice raised to the point that he was nearly shouting.

"A prophet of the lord, Dean," Castiel replied, his voice strained. "Not some crazy person." The angel's posture had become stiff and his jaw was clenched.

"But Jenna hasn't done anything wrong," Sam protested. Dean was thankful to have his brother on his side. "You said it yourself," he reminded him.

The angel looked at one brother, then the other. "Not yet," he warned.

"We're not going to kill her for something she might or might not do," Dean argued. Forget the peace, he was shouting now as he clenched his fists, his fingernails dug into his palms. This was too important.

"You've killed monsters on less," Castiel snapped back, staring at his friend through squinted eyes.

The angel's words hurt, but Dean supposed the truth did hurt. There was one big difference though, between the things he'd done in the past and their current situation. "Jenna isn't a monster!" He said with an exasperated sigh.

Castiel didn't even blink when he responded, "Yes, Dean, she is." The certainty in the angel's voice sent chills down Dean's spine.

* * *

 

The night before Crowley had caught Jenna, once again, trying to escape. The red that had flashed through husband eyes had struck fear into her heart, so when he questioned her she had told him the truth about her sight. Admittedly, she didn't know much. It allowed her to see the energy in things, to see souls. In turn, Crowley had given her an answer to her biggest question: what did it mean?

 _The Thing That Should Not Be_. Crowley's words echoed in Jenna's head like a record stuck on repeat. Although years of being told she was crazy had left her believing it was true, deep down she had always known she was different. Now she had a name for what she was. Not crazy. Not schizophrenic. A real name. She was The Thing That Should Not Be. Relief had been what she expected, but instead she just found herself with more questions.

After breakfast Jenna was supposed to meet Crowley in his study to discuss a deal. In exchange for her help in dealing with Malphas, he promised to answer whatever questions he could. He offered her answers. Information. Knowledge. There was so much that he could teach her, a whole new world he could open her eyes to, if she would just agree to his terms.

Now she was left with a choice: meet with the demon, or use the opportunity to strike first and try to escape. For once she knew exactly where he would be and when. The demon's guard would be down, he would not be expecting an attack, not from her. Not now that he smugly thought he had her in his pocket.

Still, she couldn't deny that it was tempting, especially when he seemed to be the only one with any answers. Those were answers though, that she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. If knowing what she was didn't give her peace, perhaps neither would anything else he could tell her. Perhaps there would always be more questions, or worse yet, maybe she wouldn't like the answers she got. Maybe it would be better to go back to her old life and try to block out this crazy, insane world where monsters and demons were real.

There was also one massive problem if she did decide to stay: she hadn't the slightest idea how she could possibly help to defeat a Prince of Hell. Even with the King on her side. That and she'd be aligning herself with a demon. Somehow that just seemed intrinsically wrong.

As Jenna left the kitchen after breakfast her limbs felt heavy, and her legs weak. The dilemma was still cycling through her mind, a ferris wheel: one minute she was up on top certain she should try to take him out, the next she was back on the bottom sure she should take him up on his offer, because really, how could she ever go back to her old life now that she knew the truth. If she tried to kill Crowley and failed, what would happen? Would he kill her? It seemed to her that he believed he needed her, so probably not. What if she took him up on his offer? She would be working for a demon. Not just any demon, the King of Hell. Surely then, if there was a hell, and obviously there was, that's where she would be going. Unless, she reasoned, it was okay to help one evil defeat a worse evil.

Upon reaching the study door, Jenna's stomach dropped like a stone in the deep, dark ocean. It was time. Subconsciously she ran her slender fingers over the hidden carving knife she had stolen from the kitchen, making sure it was still there. There was reassurance in it's hard steel. For the first time since arriving in this prison, she felt like she had the upper hand. The choice was hers, though part of her wished it wasn't, because she still wasn't one hundred percent sure she was making the right one. If there was even a right choice.

Inside the room, Crowley sat in one of the leather armchairs, with his back to the door. For that, Jenna was grateful. If she had to look into his eyes, she doubted she could follow through, because when she looked into his eyes, when she looked into his soul, what she saw wasn't always so clear. Somehow Crowley was different than the other demons she had encountered. Somehow, when she looked at him, what she saw was something else, something somewhere between demon and human.

Jenna trembled like a leaf in an autumn storm as she walked up behind him. All the blood had drained from her knuckles as she held the knife tight in her vice-like grip, leaving them white. Crowley was a demon, he was the King of Hell. He was evil, she justified to herself as she brought the knife down in one swift motion with all the force she could muster.

In her mind she had been prepared for the blade to plunge deep into the demon's flesh, so when her arm came to a sudden stop before the blade even connected Jenna was confused. Only when she looked very closely could she make out the faint wisps of energy that seized her, and all Crowley had done was raise a single finger.

"I expected more from you," Crowley told her. There was disappointment in his voice as he shook his head. Without moving from his chair he slowly made a fist with his hand. The energy that held her tightened painfully around her wrist as if it were in a vice until finally she could hold on no longer and the carving knife went clattering to the floor.

When Crowley stood and turned towards Jenna she was met by a stony expression. He was angry, and rightfully so: she had just tried to kill him. "Do not mistake my hospitality for weakness," Crowley warned, his voice low and threatening.

"I…" Jenna tried to speak, but her voice wavered and she could not form the words. All she wanted to do was run, but Crowley's power held her effortlessly. Squirming in his telekinetic grasp, she licked her lips anxiously and tried to stem the panic that was bubbling up in her chest.

With a quick flick of his hand, Crowley threw Jenna backwards. A bookshelf brought her to an abrupt stop, knocking the wind from her lungs and sending several leather-bound tomes tumbling to the floor around her. "Umph!"

Crowley cocked his head to the side and shook it, his eyes never leaving her. They glowed a faint red and bored into her like a drill driving deep into the earth in search of oil. "Did you really think you could take on the King of Hell and win?" He asked, his words sharp and pointed. "Did you think I would not notice the knife missing from the cutting block? Did you really think you could hurt me, _me_ , with _that_?" Crowley's lip curled and nose wrinkled as he looked at the knife laying on the ground. It would have not left so much as a scratch. "Did you really think it would be so easy to kill me?" He asked, as he sneered at her.

"I don't know," Jenna replied, her voice so quiet it was barely audible. "I hoped. I thought maybe I could escape." She lowered her chin to her chest as a flush crept across her freckled cheeks.

"Whatever you think, whatever you plan, I will always be ten steps ahead," Crowley told her, his words clipped. "Do not try me, because you will lose. Every. Single. Time. I will always win. Afterall, I'm Crowley."

Every fibre of her being was screaming at her to just sit down and shut up. Instead, Jenna picked herself up from the floor and dusted herself off. With her head raised she met the gaze of her captor. "If you are so strong and so sure that I can not win, then why do you need my help to fight Malphas?" She asked him.

Crowley scoffed. "Do yourself a favor, Red, and don't pretend to be brave. It doesn't suit you. I can smell the fear oozing from your pores. You reek of it."

"You're wrong," Jenna replied still looking the demon straight on. "Bravery isn't the absence of fear. Bravery is being afraid and doing something anyways, because you know that whatever it is you have to do is more important than how you feel."

Crowley tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. A slow smile crept onto his face, then his eyes narrowed as he regarded her with curiosity. "So tell me, Red, what are you more afraid of: me or what you are?"

A lump formed in Jenna's throat and her mouth went dry, parched like the desert sands. She glanced down at her hands with nothing to say. She didn't need to answer him because the demon already knew.

"That's what I thought. If you want to be brave, then it's time to stop running, Red. Face what you are. Embrace it." Crowley watched Jenna. He seemed to be gauging her reaction. "You can be so much more than this. Come with me and chase greatness. Let me show you what you can be. Let me show you what we can accomplish together."

Crowley held out his hand. The offer still stood. Despite the fact that she had just tried to kill him, he stood there offering her another chance. Jenna bit her bottom lip while her pale blue eyes searched his. An eternity seemed to stretch out between them. Finally Jenna nodded, reached out and took the demon's hand.


	7. The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-06

The mood at the Men of Letters' bunker had remained tense ever since Castiel's visit. While everyone agreed that Jenna needed to be found, they did not see eye to eye on what to do with her once they found her. While Sam and Dean wanted to help her, the angels believed the woman needed to be destroyed in order to save creation.

"You know we can't let Cas kill Jenna. She hasn't done anything wrong," Sam said, looking up at Dean from where he sat at his desk in the library. With the dilemma they found themselves faced with it wasn't entirely clear to Dean who his little brother was trying to convince: him or himself.

At the thought of their last encounter with Castiel, Dean's whole body tensed. His hands balled into fists and his jaw clenched. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there," he replied. "Let's just hope we get to her first." On the one hand, Castiel had been right. Dean had killed monsters for less; he had killed them simply for what they were. On the other hand, Jenna was human and he had sworn to protect her. For God's sake, in his life Dean had seen more than enough evil to recognize that the woman was just frightened, not evil.

"What have you dug up on Malphas?" Dean asked, forcing his hands open. There was an eagerness to change the subject, to focus on something else, something he could actually do something about. Since they had no leads on Crowley and the woman, they might as well learn as much as they could about the Prince of Hell.

Sam leaned forward and rubbed his hands together before gesturing at the large stack of books piled on his desk. "Well, quite a bit as it turns out," he said. "In all of the lore, Malphas takes the form of a raven which are considered as a bird of ill omen. They are often associated with death as they feed on the corpses of the fallen." Sam flipped open one of the ancient tomes to a drawing of a demon. A cloud of dust billowed from its yellow pages. There was a brightness to his eyes as he continued to speak. "Sometimes he appears in the lore as actual raven, other times, as you can see here." Dean leaned over the desk and studied the drawing of Malphas spread out on the pages before him. It was inked onto the pages by hand and depicted a demon that was, half-raven-half-man and cloaked in shadows.

"Malphas demands sacrifices from his followers, which he accepts gladly. These are usually blood sacrifices, although he would accept most any sacrifice," Sam continued as he flipped through the pages of the book. "The thing is, he is a deceiver, and he doesn't uphold his end of the bargain or he twists it around."

"Sounds like every demon I know," Dean grumbled as he rubbed the side of his stubble-covered face. It was time for a shave, he thought absently.

"Malphas isn't just any demon," Sam warned sharply. "He was second in command to Lucifer and in his prime he led forty legions of demons." Sam flipped to another page that depicted countless demons marching behind their beaked Prince. A hoard of black eyes swarmed the page and Dean shuddered.

Forty legions. Sam and Dean had faced many demons in their lives, but a force such as that was beyond comprehension. The Princes of Hell had been generals in Lucifer's demonic army, but the sheer vastness of that sort of power and influence was hard to imagine. Dean mumbled something incomprehensible as he gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head.

"Now, that was a long time ago, before Lucifer was put in the cage and Malphas was forced into hiding," Sam explained, closing the book and looking up at his brother. "We don't know how many of those demons are still loyal to the Prince of Hell, but without a doubt some certainly are."

Dean let out a heavy sigh and plopped himself into a seat across from Sam. "Malphas could already have an army at his disposal," he griped.

Sam nodded, his face set into a stern, hard line. "Yes. He could."

Dean reached up and scratched the side of his head. It didn't make sense. If Malphas led legions of demons, why hadn't he joined Azazel in the fight to free Lucifer? Why hadn't he swept in and taken over Hell eons ago? As second in command he would have been the logical choice. Why didn't he just open demon gates and take the Earth by storm. "Why wait until now?" Dean asked.

"Well, Malphas is the 'in it for the long haul'-type," Sam explained. "He is anything, if not patient and methodical. From what I've read he will take his time to build his army and his fortifications. He will want all of the infrastructure in place before he strikes. I imagine he was waiting for…" Sam trailed off and grimaced.

"For Jenna," Dean finished for him. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, like someone had filled it with stones and thrown him overboard and it was pulling him under. "He was waiting for the ultimate weapon that could destroy anyone and anything that stood in his way."

"If what Castiel said was true," Sam agreed. "We need to find her before Malphas does," he added with urgency in his voice.

"I know, Sammy. And we will," Dean assured him. Deep down though, the hunter was anything but sure. So far, they weren't making any progress and he didn't know where to turn next.

* * *

After unsuccessfully trying to kill Crowley, Jenna had given in and agreed to face what she was, to face the uncertainty and hear the answers she both craved and feared. So she found herself in the most unlikely of situations, sitting in the mansion's study in front of the King of Hell, politely talking terms. It was not what she pictured when she thought about demons. It all seemed so utterly benign, though the thought always clung to the back of her mind that behind that charming, sales man act there might be a more sinister plot at work.

"You can do more than just see the energy that binds all of creation, love. You can touch it. You can feel it," Crowley told her emphatically. The conviction in his voice was enough to grip her. "But you need to stop running. You need to stop hiding from what you are. You are The Thing That Should Not Be, and you have the power to touch creation. You have the power to destroy Malphas, to erase him from this universe.  _You_  can save humanity."

It all sounded well and good. Okay, it was completely off-the-rocker insane, and she should know, but still, to save humanity... Except for one glaring flaw. Jenna frowned and bit her bottom lip. "You're a demon," she said uncertainly. "What do you care what happens to humanity?"

Crowley shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his black overcoat. "I don't," he replied non-committally, giving a shrug of his shoulders.

"Then why do you care if I can save them?" Jenna asked, her pale blue eyes darting around the demon's face, trying to read him.

The demon smiled easily, not thrown in the slightest by her question. "Call it self-preservation," he explained. "If Prince Not-so-Charming would leave it at conquering humanity, I'd let him have the weak, useless lot of you. But Malphas wants it all: Earth, Heaven, Hell." Jenna nodded though she grimaced at his cold words. It's not like she should have expected him to actually give a damn about humanity. "As King of Hell, I'm at the top of his list. Now, call me paranoid, but the sooner that gigantic, overambitious prick is dead and gone, the better."

A weak chuckle escaped Jenna's lips. "Really, you're playing the enemy of my enemy is my friend card?"

"I'll play whatever cards I've got, love," Crowley assured her with a wink. "This demon wont go down without a fight. So what do you say, you and me against all odds? What is there to lose. Either way it's death for me and years of torment for you as Malphas's slave and your eventual agonizing death once you've outlived your usefulness. Unless, of course, you help me and we kill him first."

When he said it like that, it all sounded so simple and so reasonable. It was as if there was really no choice at all. "You were a salesman in another life, weren't you?" Jenna commented.

"A tailor, actually," the demon replied, earning a surprised look. It hadn't really occurred to her that he may have actually had another life when she'd said that, and she realized that she knew practically nothing about demons at all.

Still, Jenna couldn't help but wonder what the catch was, when the other shoe was about to drop. She shifted her weight in her chair, pulling her short little legs up under her. Who was she to fight a Prince of Hell. She was no one. She was nothing. "Whatever happens next, I can never go back to my old life, can I?" she asked, staring at her hands folded in her lap. "To the way things were before…"

"I'm afraid not," Crowley told her, and she looked up realizing that the demon had moved closer. "You've opened this can of worms, there's no putting the lid back on now."

"I kinda had it opened for me," Jenna replied quietly.

"All the same," Crowley breathed. The demon seemed to be studying her intently, the weight of his gaze making her uncomfortable. Under it, her eyes dropped once more to the ground and she reached up, tucking a stray strand of coppery-red hair behind her ear. "You have a chance here, Red," he told her. "Why would you want to go back to sitting on some street corner while the rest of the world passes you by as if you don't even exist. As if you're not even human. You can do so much more than that. You can  _be_  so much more."

Malphas would make her his slave, but what about Crowley. What would she be giving up if she chose to work with him. "What about my freedom?" Jenna asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Even though it was only her and Crowley in the room there was this irrational fear that someone might overhear, that someone might know she was actually considering the demon's deal.

"Help me and your freedom is yours," Crowley assured her. The smile he offered was confident and it was easy, and well rehearsed. With it he could have made any offer look good. Despite being a demon, he was handsome and charming, and had this way of making her want to say yes with just a look or a gesture. How many had sat before him, and offered up their souls, Jenna wondered.

"And my soul?" she asked in an emotion-choked voice. Freedom wasn't worth her soul. Answers weren't worth her soul. Humanity though... her resolve wavered.

"This is no ordinary demon deal," Crowley told her. "Your soul remains yours. No hell hound will come for you. No ten-year term. You get to live out your life as a human, soul intact. Unless, of course, you break your end of the deal, then, as seen in paragraph 12, subsection 2, your soul becomes mine, for all eternity. Call it an insurance policy, if you will." He unrolled an unreasonably long scroll, letting it trail across the ground to Jenna's feet where she sat in the leather armchair.

Jenna wrapped her arms around herself. "Couldn't we just shake on it, like ordinary people?" She asked, her eyes hopeful, pleading.

Crowley leaned in. "Ah, but there is nothing ordinary about either of us now is there, Red?" he responded with a smirk. "And besides, these sorts of deals aren't sealed with a handshake. They're signed in blood and sealed with a  _kiss_."

For that brief moment Jenna was unable to control her reaction, her pale blue eyes widened like saucers and her mouth gaped open. Oh dear God, she thought, horrified as she felt the blush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. Embarrassed she dropped her eyes quickly and stared at the grain pattern of the hardwood floor.

"Help me," Crowley pitched, leaning in closer still, "and not only is your freedom yours, but the answers to all of your questions are yours too."

But this wasn't about her, it was about humanity. It was about a worse evil. Even though she was terrified, Jenna knew she couldn't just walk away. It was time to stop running. Picking the blade off the table, her hands trembled. This was it. If she went through with this, there was no turning back. Swallowing hard she squinted her eyes shut and dragged the cold, sharp blade across her palm. Deep red blood pooled from the cut, warm and wet. With her other hand she picked up the quill, dipped it into her own blood, and signed on the dotted line.

Crowley rolled up the scroll and snapped it shut. The noise made Jenna flinch hard. Placing the contract on the table next to her, he extended his hand to help Jenna to her feet. "All that's left now is to seal the deal," he told her.

Reluctantly Jenna reached out and took the demon's hand and stood. Once again she was surprised by the heat that radiated from him. Crowley tugged, pulling her into him, and Jenna gasped as she looked up at him and into his inviting brown eyes that glowed red but for a moment. Fear and anticipation sent her pulse aflutter.

In that moment her mind screamed at her. What was she doing. Charming or not, this man, this creature was a demon. He was the King of Hell. Still, she found herself extending onto her tiptoes as she placed a hand against his chest for balance. Crowley wrapped one arm around her waist to steady her, and placed the other hand on the back of her neck, pulling them together. He made it so  _easy_.

 _Only what I have to do,_ Jenna told herself. Then their lips met and she closed her eyes. The world seemed to just melt away, leaving only the two of them. She could smell the expensive cologne he used to mask the scent of sulfur. She could taste the saltiness of his lips. But more than that, she could feel  _him_ : his body against hers, the heat that radiated from his core, his immense  _power_. A small moan escaped her throat, and Crowley responded by pulling her closer deepening the long, slow kiss. Jenna felt the warmth and energy that spread between them and she knew that the contract was sealed. She knew, whatever happened next, she was bound to him.

Crowley pulled away and released her. All the fear and trepidation came rushing back.  _What have you done?!_ Jenna's mind shrieked, free from the demon's magnetic pull. The realization that it was done, that it was too late now to take it back, hit her like a bowling ball dropped in her gut.

"See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" Crowley asked with a smirk. No. Making a deal had been easy. Now the hard part was about to begin. If Jenna wanted to keep her soul, she was going to have to figure out a way to defeat Malphas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, follows, and reviews so far. It means a lot to me that anyone is actually reading this. If you have a couple minutes to leave a review, let me know what you think, how the pacing is, anything I can work at improving, if anything seems terribly OOC etc, that would be incredibly helpful.


	8. It's Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-08.

Unsure entirely what she was getting herself into, or how she would hold up her end of the contract and destroy Malphas, Jenna had made a deal with Crowley. Her help for her freedom; her help for answers to all her questions; her help and she got to keep her soul;  _her help to save humanity_. The contract, written on a long, trailing scroll had been signed in blood, and sealed with a kiss. Not just any kiss. No, what had transpired between them had been so much more. She had felt the energy that had passed between them. The contract wasn't just the scroll she'd signed or the kiss she'd sealed it with. She could feel the essence of it, coursing through her veins, crawling under her skin, sinking deep into her bones. For better or worse, until Malphas was dead, she was bound to Crowley.

In the quiet of the night tucked away safely in her room, or at least as safe as one could be locked in a mansion with demons, Jenna brought her hand to her face and traced with her fingers where Crowley's lips had been and her flesh tingled. It was hard to describe how she had felt when she had given herself to him. It had been a roller coaster, that was for sure. The anticipation on that long steady climb up had left her chest feeling like it was one breath away from caving in. As he had pulled their bodies together and their lips had met everything had just melted away as they sat there, at the top in that moment of blissful peace. Then, once it was over and she realized it was too late to take back her decision, everything had plummetted towards the bottom and she was struck with an incredible fear.

Jenna still felt like she was spiraling along the same never-ending roller coaster. One minute she felt excitement and wonder. There was such an incredible world out there that no one, or almost no one, even knew existed, and she had the backstage, all-access pass. The answer to every question she'd ever had, and every questions she'd never even known she had, rested at her finger tips. Then there was Crowley, handsome, charming, and witty.  _Then there was Crowley_ , demon, King of Hell, and the next minute she'd find herself wanting to scream, or cry, or both.

It was exhausting, trying to hang on for the crazy ride she was on, and eventually that exhaustion won. There was nothing more she could do. Not today. So Jenna climbed into her nice, warm bed and practiced being grateful. Grateful that she was indoors, protected from the elements. Grateful that she had somewhere comfortable to sleep. Grateful that she wasn't chained up in some dungeon, or wherever demons typically kept their prisoners. Grateful that in the morning it would be Crowley she woke up to face, not Malphas, and that he would help her learn to use the power she possessed. With those thoughts, she nuzzled her head into the fluffy pillow and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

In the still of the night the mansion was so quiet it felt years abandoned. All that space and not a noise, not a snore, nor the tick tock of a clock, nor the creak of a floorboard as someone sneaked around. It felt empty, and that was fine for AJ. The last thing he wanted was anyone up and about overhearing what he was about to do. With Crowley returned to Hell to take care of the business that had piled up in his absence while he was Earth side, Jenna sleeping peacefully in her room down the hall, and the other demons at the far reaches of the house, this was his opportunity.

In a dark, back bedroom of the mansion, AJ found himself hunched over a goblet filled with human blood. Some poor bloke out jogging at the wrong time in the wrong place. He was no one of import, though his family would miss him terribly that didn't concern the demon. There was only one thing on his mind as he watched the thick, sticky, dark red liquid swirl and bubble as if it were alive. "What news have you?" A hoarse voice asked from the depths. It was the voice of Malphas.

AJ's pulse quickened at the voice of his master. It had been so long while he laid low, playing the part, hiding in deep cover well behind the enemy lines. "It is about the woman," he answered anxiously.

"Yes. Go on," the voice hissed. Even over the connection, AJ could feel the anticipation and urgency of his master.

"She is indeed the one you seek," AJ told him.

Malphas inhaled sharply, the sound of his breath rushing across the call. "You are sure of this?" he asked.

"I am sure," AJ assured him. "The false king himself has confirmed it." There was a pause as he hesitated and considered how to broach the next issue. "But there is a problem, my Lord," the demon added slowly.

"A problem?" Malphas repeated. The tone of the Prince's voice sent a shudder, coursing like a shock wave, down AJ's spine. Crowley could be ruthless and brutal when he was crossed, but he feared Malphas infinitely more.

Suddenly AJ found himself wishing he had just left the topic alone, but it was inevitable. Eventually Malphas would find out, and when he did, if he found out he had known and kept it from him, there would be no end to his suffering. He had to tell him. "She has made a deal with Crowley," AJ explained, his voice quiet.

There was a pause on the other end as Malphas seemed to ponder the information he had been provided. AJ waited, expecting to hear the full wrath of his master screaming across the line, but he didn't. Instead, when Malphas did speak, his words were calm and confident. "Then we will have to find another way to kill Crowley," he told his subject. "When he is dead, as the new ruler of Hell I will inherit his contracts. The woman will belong to me, and with her I will bring both Heaven and Earth to their knees. All will serve Hell."

A sigh of relief escaped AJ's lips. Relief that his master chose not to kill the messenger today, and relief because finally there would be an end to this pathetic regime that Crowley had created. Once upon a time, Hell had been an incredible kingdom. It had inspired fear for countless generations. Then after Lucifer things had begun to fall apart. Each subsequent ruler had, struggled and failed to return Hell to it's former glory. And along came Crowley, who cared more about efficiency and soul counts than on the simple, beautiful, freedom that was borne from the absence of morality. He was a businessman, not a king. No one cared about Hell anymore. No one feared it. Hell needed a ruler that would return it to greatness. That ruler would be Malphas.

The blood bubbled excitedly within the goblet. "Wait for my signal," Malphas instructed. "When the time is right, we will strike. Until then, you are to give the false king no reason to doubt your allegiance. Do you understand?"

AJ straightened his back and lifted his chin. "Yes, my Lord."

Inside the goblet the blood stilled. The connection had been terminated. A smile spread across AJ's lips. It had been a long time long he had endured as he waited for his true king to reign. A long time that he had had to mask his disgust, and pretend to serve Crowley and call him King. Now finally there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and it shone brightly. Soon, Crowley would be dead and Malphas would rule, and things would return to the way they should be.

* * *

Crowley thought of himself in the study, and he was there. Returned once more from Hell. On Earth, mere hours had passed since he'd last stood in this study, but time flowed differently in Hell. The five and a half weeks he had spent there this trip had been grueling, but necessary. His presence needed to be seen, it needed to be felt. Now more than ever, that was of the utmost importance. His demons needed to know that he was still the big man in charge. Yet, coming back here to his safe house between visits was a welcome relief.

Just as the previous mornings, Jenna was already there waiting for him. The over-sized leather armchair she sat in, feet tucked up underneath her, seemed to swallow her tiny body whole. Her eyes were downcast as she fidgeted with the hem of her beige short-sleeve, fitted shirt. Crowley couldn't help but notice how frightened and fragile she looked, how terribly  _human_.

He resisted the urge to clear his throat, announcing his presence. There was a simple joy in surprising the woman and watching her jump at the sound of his voice. "Hello, darling," Crowley drawled. Jenna's eyes shot up, a brilliant, light, glacial blue. They were by far her most striking feature. For the briefest moment, he swore he saw her face light up. "Did you miss me?" Crowley teased.

There was a pause. "It's just so quiet here," Jenna offered, her own voice barely above a whisper.

It did not slip past Crowley that she was dodging the actual question, and for a moment he entertained the thought that perhaps she had actually missed him. A thought, he quickly admonished himself for having. Of course she didn't miss him. Besides, why should he even care if she had. He was a demon. She was a human. Oh, and there was that little part where he had kidnapped her and now held a contract on her soul. "Ah yes, well I can't blame you. I'm far better company than my demons, after all," Crowley replied cheekily, trying to drown out his own inner dialogue. There were certain thoughts, certain feelings,  _human_  feelings, that didn't belong and he tried his damnedest to push them down into darkest recesses of his mind.

Jenna said nothing, and merely fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "How are you making out with those wards?" Crowley asked, changing the subject. Over the week that had passed since the contract had been signed, he had provided Jenna with boxes, sealed by increasingly complicated wards. It had taken her three days to break the first seal. But once she had learned how to manipulate the energy, she had been making steady progress.

"I think I've almost got it," Jenna told him, a gleam in her eye. The change of topic had put her more at ease, and she appeared suddenly more animated. "This one is much more difficult," she added, biting her bottom lip and rolling it between her teeth. "The threads are so entangled, it is hard to tease them apart, but I'm close. I know I am."

It would be infinitely more difficult to disentangle the soul of Malphas and remove him from existence, but Crowley refrained from saying as much. "Why don't you take a break," he offered. Pulling a bottle of Craig from his desk, he poured himself a generous glass before joining her to sit down.

"That sounds good," Jenna agreed.

They had not only been working on honing Jenna's skill. As part of the deal, Crowley had offered her answers, and he had done his best to give them to her. At first the questions had focused around what she was, around the prophecy, and around Malphas. Not surprisingly, as both were central to their deal. It wasn't unreasonable to want to know what she was up against, and certainly, she would need to know what she was capable of.

Afterwards though, her questions had begun to wander. There were so many things that she wanted to know, and Crowley was a wealth of information. Every evening, their meetings seemed to get longer, and longer.  _Tell me about the archangels. Tell me about Lucifer. Tell me how the demons came to be._ And he would tell her, and she would listen, absorbing it all with rapt attention. The truth was, Crowley didn't mind the time he spent here on Earth, with her in the study just  _talking_. Hell was, well honestly, sometimes he despised Hell. Hell was depressing. This, here with her, was a break from the tedium, and the backstabbing, and the rest of demon kind.

"What grand secrets of the universe can I impart to you tonight, Red?" Crowley asked playfully. Usually Jenna jumped at the question, rattling off a string of questions until Crowley would have to hold up his hand and tell her to slow down. He could only answer one question at a time. Today though, there was a long, pregnant pause as she seemed to mull it over.

"Actually," Jenna said, brushing a strand of hair nervously behind her ear. "I was hoping we could talk about you."

The cheerful smile fell from Crowley's face. Of all of the topics in the entirety of the universe, she would pick the only one that he would rather not discuss. Mentally, he kicked himself for not including a clause in her contract that questions about himself were off-limits. "There's nothing to tell," he grumbled.

"It's in my contract. I agree to help you defeat Malphas. You answer my questions," Jenna reminded him. As if Crowley wasn't painfully aware of that bit of information already. "I don't see what you're complaining about. I still got the short end of the stick, if you ask me." Crowley glared at her, unimpressed, but the woman persisted. "It's just that…" she tucked another strand of loose hair back behind her ear. It was something like a nervous tick, he had observed. "You're a demon. You're the King of Hell. But," her eyebrows scrunched together as she thought. "You're not what I expected."

On the side table next to him, Crowley's cellphone buzzed. The call display read  _Not Moose_. Dean had been calling non-stop all week. There was no doubt in Crowley's mind that it was regarding the woman. If he picked up, Dean would shout angrily and threaten to rip him a host of new orifices, or burn his bones, or stick him with the pointy end of that blasted demon blade he carried. Blah blah blah. And Crowley would snark of some witty reply and cheerfully hang up on him. Of course, that was only if he answered, and he never did. Not since he'd kidnapped the woman. This time was no different. Once more Crowley ignored his phone and let it go to voicemail.

Crowley returned his attention to the woman sitting across from him. "And what did you expect, love?" he asked. "Hellfire and brimstone?"

Jenna shrugged, and shifted her weight in the chair. "Yes, kinda. I guess," she admitted. "I thought you would be evil." It never ceased to amaze Crowley how different she was from what he would have expected, given what she was. The woman was so timid, and fearful, and  _weak_. If her soul was his, he would rebuild her strong, and fearless, and bold as The Thing That Should Not Be ought to be, and keep her at his side. But then, she wouldn't exactly be her anymore. Not really. Because in becoming a demon, everything about her would be destroyed, and for some reason unknown to Crowley, that thought displeased him.

He let out a hearty laugh and took a long, slow sip of his scotch savoring all the subtle notes. It was one of his few real pleasures. "I am evil, love," Crowley corrected her. "I am the evilest evil that ever eviled." Jenna bit her bottom lip and shook her head slightly. Whether it was that she didn't believe, or didn't want to believe, he wasn't certain. "Look Red," Crowley continued, his tone turning serious. "If you had even a taste of the things that I've done, you wouldn't be sitting there right now. You would run from me, as far and as fast as you could."

With the heightened acuity of his demonic senses and biomimetic powers, Crowley was hyper aware of any changes in her physiology. The woman's breathing increased and became shallower. The muscles in her jaw trembled as she tried to blink back the tears that were beginnin to form in the corner of her blue eyes. "Maybe you have," Jenna replied slowly as she struggled to maintain her composure. "But you're different."

"I'm really not," Crowley said cooly.

"You are," Jenna repeated sternly. "Your soul. I can see it, and it is  _different_." There was a fierce determination to her words. Whether it was to try and convince herself of their truth he didn't know. Sure, after the failed curing ritual Crowley knew he was different, there was a lingering humanity that plagued him and made everything infinitely more messy. But his soul, could it really have changed too?

Next to him, Crowley's cell phone buzzed again. This time the vibration sent it skittering across the smooth table top. It was Dean, no surprise. According to the call display he now had thirty three missed calls. Persistent bastards. Those damn Winchesters were always such a thorn in his side. No sooner did the vibration stop and the phone began to buzz again. Couldn't that moron figure out that he didn't want to be bothered. It's not like they could just chain-phone him into picking the blasted piece of technology up and acknowledging their existence. In one swift motion Crowley picked up the phone and chucked it across the room. "Ah, that's better," Crowley said, breathing a sigh of relief as it shattered into a hundred plastic pieces on the floor. "What's a demon got to do to get some peace?"

When he looked back at Jenna she was still staring at him expectantly. "Was there a question in all of that, love?" Crowley asked. "It certainly came across as more of an observation."

"Why are you different?" Jenna asked, those brilliant, glacial blue eyes locked on his. "What changed you?"

Crowley sighed heavily in defeat. There was no getting out of this. A deal was a deal was a deal, and he kept his word. There was something called professional integrity. So he told her. He told her about Sam and Dean's attempt to close the gates of Hell. He told her about the trials: the last of which had been to cure a demon.  _I was that demon._ Then he told her about how close Sam had come to completing the ritual. How close he had been to being human. How he had felt humanity and even though the ritual was never finished and he was still a demon, he had never been quite the same again.

What he didn't tell her was how part of him wished that Sam had succeeded. How part of him longed to feel that humanity again. What he didn't tell her was how he had become addicted to human blood chasing even a glimpse of what it was to be human if only for a moment.

"So you're…." Jenna trailed off after listening to his story.

"It's complicated," Crowley replied, but complicated didn't even begin to cover it.


	9. Betrayed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-08.

Nearly a month had passed since Sam and Dean had both met and lost Jenna as she was chased by Malphas's demons and then subsequently kidnapped by the King of Hell. Try as they might, the brothers were unable to locate Crowley, and the demon wasn't answering his calls. Waiting wasn't producing any leads, and the trail was running so cold it had practically iced over. If they wanted to get her back, and keep her safe like they'd sworn to do, then was time for more drastic measures.

"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked, surveying the space they had prepared in the Men of Letters dungeon. "I mean, this is Crowley we're talking about. He's not going to take kindly to being summoned and stuck in a devil's trap."

"I know, Sammy. But we're out of options," Dean replied gruffly as he rechecked the devil's trap for the fourth time.

It wouldn't have been the first time they had summoned a demon, or the first time they had summoned Crowley for that matter. Their relationship with the King of Hell was tenuous and complicated. They were enemies, they had to be. After all, he was a demon, and they were hunters. But at the same time, when it really came down to it, they often found themselves working together in some sort of fragile, mutually beneficial arrangement. Frenemies, they supposed. At least with Crowley, they knew what to expect, and he wasn't exactly hell bent on upsetting the status quo. At least not in the same world-ending way that Lucifer, or Amara had been, for example.

"Okay then," Sam agreed giving a curt nod of his head. "Let's do it." Carefully he drew out the sigil on the floor in the centre of the room. In each corner he placed a candle then lit them one by one. As he finished, he glanced up at the devil's trap painted on the ceiling and then to his brother.

Dean was reading carefully from his notes, as he added ingredients one at a time to the dished summoning bowl: yarrow, frankincense, wormwood, rowan berries and the skull of a rabbit. Each was carefully measured and added in the proper order according to the spell he was working from. The final ingredient was blood of the summoner. Dean drew a blade across the palm of his hand without hesitation, made a fist above the bowl and let the blood trickle in pouring from the wound like a faucet that wasn't quite shut off.

"Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum, et ad, congregontum eos, 'coram me," Dean chanted in Latin. To complete the ritual he tossed a lit matchstick into the bowl. The ingredients engulfed in an unnatural blue flame and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Hello, boys," came a familiar voice and the candles flickered. Crowley was dressed impeccably as always. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his black suit jacket as he strolled leisurely towards them. Suddenly the demon came to a dead stop and the smile faded from his face. As he looked up at the ceiling his features darkened. "Bollocks," Crowley he cursed, realizing that Winchesters had tricked him. That it had been a trap.

Dean stood rigidly across the room, his hands balled tightly into fists. "Where is the woman?" he demanded, not bothering to beat around the bush.

Smoothing his suit and regaining his composure, Crowley cocked his head to the side. "What, no hello?" he asked teasingly.

Dean's blood boiled. Him and Sam had been searching for Jenna for weeks and his patience was wearing thin. "Cut the games, Crowley. Where is she?" he growled. There was no time for Crowley's bullshit and snarky comments.

Crowley rolled his brown eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. "Somewhere safe," he answered vaguely.

Sam took a step towards the devil's trap. "We know what she is," he informed him, his jaw clenched tightly in anger. Castiel had reiterated the prophecy and explained the risk that the woman posed to creation, though both brothers doubted that the woman would willfully do any harm, in Crowley's hands, or Malphas's, there was no telling what she could be forced to do.

Crowley walked calm and collected, hands still in his pockets, around the inside perimeter of the devil's trap where he was contained for the time being. "Good," he replied with a thoughtful nod. "Then you know she is the best chance we have at stopping Malphas." It was all starting to make sense now. Dean shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. That's what Crowley had wanted all along. He had known what the woman was and had planned to use her to defend his throne.

"Crowley, neither of us give a rat's ass what happens to Hell," Sam said shaking his head angrily, as he took another step towards the devil's trap.

Crowley stood back and smiled smugly. The look on his face made Dean uneasy. It would not be beneath the demon to grab Sam and choke the life out of him until Dean released him, but to his great relief his younger brother stopped short, making sure he did not go within arm's length of the demon. "Your beef with Malphas is between the two of you," Dean said dismissively.

That smug smile on Crowley's face only grew, and Dean found himself wanting to wipe it away with his fist. "Oh Squirrel, if only that were true," the demon replied gleefully taking pleasure in their ignorance. "Malphas's beef isn't just with me, so if I were you, I'd start caring. If I lose this war, who do you think will be next?"

Dean's green eyes narrowed and he folded his arms across his broad chest. He hated it when Crowley knew something they didn't, especially when it was something important, and especially when he had to ask him for help. The demon, of course, never made it easy, always dragging it out and gloating about it. "What do you mean?" Dean asked begrudgingly.

Crowley tutted. "Ah, ah, ah, not so fast there tiger." Dean groaned. He knew this was coming. "It seems, once again, you need  _my_  help," Crowley pointed out. "What do I get in return?"

"Our undying appreciation and gratitude?" Dean replied scathingly. Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably, and Dean felt it too: the urgency. Crowley was stalling and they needed to get to the heart of the matter and find out what was going on, and then they needed to find out where the woman was. They needed to get her back.

Crowley scoffed, just as Dean knew he would. "Appreciation and gratitude don't pay the bills, darling. Now," he gestured to the trap that held him. "How about you let me out of here and we'll talk business."

Dean gave Crowley a stony stare. "How about you tell us what you know, and then, maybe, if it's worth it we let you walk."

Crowley tilted his chin up and glared at the hunters. "After all we've been through, and this is how it's going to be?" he spat, but Dean just stood there waiting, arms folded across his chest. "Fine," the demon relented, and he told them what he knew of Malphas's plans. The Prince of Hell had set his sights high. Having discovered the identity of The Thing That Should Not Be, he had recognized the huge, untapped potential to use her as a weapon. Against her, none could stand in his way and he would conquer not only Hell, but Heavy and Earth as well.

"Well isn't that just convenient," Dean grumbled. The thought had crossed his mind that Crowley could be making all of it up just to manipulate them into fighting his battle for him. He was just slimy enough to do that.

"Look boys," Crowley said sharply, clearly losing his patience. "Believe what you will, but I'm telling you the truth. Have I ever lied to you?"

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?" he asked. Sam just shook his head and exhaled sharply.

"Ok, yes, well maybe I've bent the truth a few times," Crowley admitted sheepishly as he stood in the center of the devil's trap. "But, this is the truth. Cross my heart and blah blah blah," he promised them. "Look, if Malphas isn't stopped, he will destroy us all. I don't care what you two imbeciles decide to do. I rather like myself intact, so I'm going to stop the bloody Prince of Hell with or without your help."

There was something in the fierceness with which Crowley finished his monologue that made Dean think that perhaps he was telling them the truth. God, he wished he wasn't, because if what Crowley was telling them was true, they had much, much bigger problems on their hands. Sam swallowed, and there was that unspoken language between brothers that told Dean he believed him too. "What about the woman?" the younger brother asked. "This isn't her battle. Leave her out of it."

Crowley smiled slyly. "She has agreed to help," he informed them with a dismissive shrug. "She can leave any time." Of course he left out the part about the contract Jenna had signed, and he certainly didn't mention that if she backed out now her soul would be his for all eternity.

* * *

For a moment Crowley had thought that the Winchesters were not going to hold up their end and release him from the devil's trap. Of course, he couldn't have really blamed them, with how many times he had stabbed them in the back. It would have been payback for the loophole he exploited in Bobby's deal, or for all of the people that they had saved and he had systematically murdered in his quest for the demon tablet. There was plenty of wrong that he had dealt them that he knew they were itching to make even on. However, they weren't willing to call his bluff that his demons had strict orders to eviscerate the woman should anything happen to him, and they had let him go.

Crowley thought of the foyer in his safe house, and in an instant he was there. However, the second that he arrived he knew something was wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and all of his heightened demonic senses were on full alert. Slowly he turned around, and was met by the remains of two of his demons, their meat-suits ripped to shreds and devoid of their former occupants presence. Raising his eyes he caught sight of something hanging from the chandelier. Was that Boris' tattooed arm? It was. There could only be one explanation. "Bollocks," Crowley cursed.

"Ah, there you are," Malphas's hoarse voice hissed, confirming Crowley's suspicion. The Prince of Hell stepped from the shadows, rising into his true form. He towered over Crowley, his shoulders hunching against the vaulted ceiling, yellow eyes piercing out from his beaked face. Around him, the shadows swirled like a living fog, both encompassing him and giving him form.

Behind the Prince of Hell stood AJ. Jenna was no match for his demonic strength as she struggled futilely, held tightly in his grasp. Crowley's blood boiled at the betrayal. AJ had been one of his trusted and loyal, or so he had thought, and there would be a special place in Hell for him if Crowley got out of this alive. Oh yes, he would personally see to AJ's torture for the rest of eternity.

Malphas extended a curved talon and dragged it down Crowley's cheek to his throat, returning his attention to him. Crowley raised his chin as it came to rest against his adam's apple. "What? Nothing to say?" Malphas asked, his voice filling the large room.

"You're making a big mistake," Crowley answered. His voice was calm and even, despite the fact that his mind was racing out of control like a fully loaded semi-truck that lost it's brakes on a steep hill with no runaway lane in sight.

Malpha's wrapped his talon around Crowley's throat, crushing his windpipe. It was a good thing that demon's didn't need to breathe. "I believe it was you who made the mistake when you stole what belongs to me," he warned as he lifted him from the ground. "You are nothing but a lowly crossroads demon who put on a crown and called himself King," Malphas sneered as he tossed him backwards into one of the stone pillars, the force sending slabs of stone crashing to the floor.

Crowley had clawed his way up the corporate ladder, tooth and nail to earn himself a position worthy of respect. First, it had been King of the Crossroads, and when no one else wanted the job after the fall of Azazel and Lilith, it had been King of Hell. A title that garnered him not only respect, but an increase in power with the souls of Hell at his disposal. A power he tried to summon now to smash the Prince of Hell, but the attack barely phased Malphas, an ancient and powerful demon who's power came from a much older magic and proved a formidable match for his own.

In response, Malphas grabbed Crowley and tossed him viciously around the room, leaving holes in the drywall and ancient artifacts smashed to pieces on the stone floor. Just like Crowley could not destroy Malphas, Malphas could not simply destroy Crowley. But that didn't stop him from hurting him, and it didn't stop him from trying. As Crowley struggled to his feet after the battering assault, Malphas used his biokinetic force to seize him around the neck. His talon curved as he channeled the massive amount of energy. He was going to try and tear him apart the same way he had Bennet and Boris.

Once more Crowley's gaze fell to the woman, helplessly held by his once trusted underling. If Malphas succeeded, she would be nothing but his pawn and he did not want to give him that satisfaction. If he wanted to rule all the kingdoms, let the bastard work for it. It was risky, if he missed, but sometimes you had to take risks. Summoning what strength he could, he snapped his fingers and exploded AJ into a cloud of dust, freeing her.  _Run, Red,_  he tried to speak but with his meat suit's windpipe still crushed the words did not come out.

The woman stood dazed for a moment as her mind tried to wrap around what had just happened. To Crowley's surprise, she didn't run, despite the fact that it would have been the perfect opportunity and Malphas in his true form was far more terrifying than any demon holed up in a meat suit. Instead she bounded towards them, and reached out into thin air, for she could see what he could not: the energy that Malphas used to seize him.

It was a rush to watch her. This was no simple warded box. This wasn't even a complicated warded box. Yet she had run in without hesitation and reached out for it all the same. Not only had she reached out for it, she had succeeded, and for that brief moment that she held on to the energy Crowley was free, dropped to his feet back on solid ground. If there had ever been any doubt in his mind about what she was and what she was capable of, there wasn't now. But he knew that she could not hold Malphas at bay indefinitely. She was still a baby in this world, learning to walk and Malphas had millennia of experience beneath his belt.

Crowley thought of his storage facility, hidden away deep in the Ozark mountains, and he was gone. The woman, she would believe he abandoned her and if he didn't return quickly that would be true. Malphas would not waste time when the opportunity was so ripe for the picking. He had to be quick.

There it was, sitting on the shelf exactly where he had left it, squirreled away for a time just like this: the Staff of Raphael. Once given to the archangel by God himself. Though it was broken, Crowley hoped it still possessed enough power to strike down the Prince of Hell. With that, Crowley teleported back to the foyer of his mansion and stood tall, facing his enemy, broken staff in hand.

"What is this?" Malphas hissed.

Crowley breathed in and absorbed the immense power stored within the artifact in his possession. The demon began to glow with a holy light, the power of God himself radiating blasphemously through his twisted core. "I told you you were making a mistake," he replied, a hint of gratification in his voice. Then he extended a hand towards Malphas and released the energy, slamming the Prince of Hell backwards and shattering the stair rail into splinters.

The shadows writhed as Malphas hissed in pain, and recoiled from the attack. The ancient, and powerful demon was injured, but not destroyed. "This isn't over," Malphas warned before disappearing completely.

"I would think not," Crowley said to the empty space where he had just been. Turning around to survey the damage, Crowley saw Jenna's body crumpled at the base of one of the stone pillars like a marionette who's strings had been cut. She was breathing, but unconscious. "Oh Red, what have you done?" he breathed as he knelt down and bent over her. "You humans. You always break so easily."

* * *

Up until their meeting with Crowley, Sam and Dean had been focusing most of their energy on finding Jenna. They had sworn to help her, and she had been abducted on their watch. Guilt had motivated them, but after to speaking to Crowley, things had changed. If she was a willing participant in this war of his, there was little they could do. Besides, whether they liked it or not, Crowley was right. She might be the best shot they had against Malphas. Their focus then, shifted to keeping tabs on the Prince of Hell, which is what they were doing in a little Internet cafe not far from the bunker.

The two of them sat at a little table near the back. Sam had the laptop spread open in front of him and was parsing through the newspaper headlines online. "There have been six reported cases of cattle mutilation outside of Albion, Nebraska in the last week alone," he exclaimed.

"Classic demon sign," Dean agreed, before taking a bite out of his breakfast burrito. "When did this all start?" he asked, still chewing his food.

"About a month ago," Sam replied. The bran muffin he'd ordered sat untouched next to the laptop, though he sipped at his latte periodically.

"So right about when Malphas came out of hiding," Dean said.

Sam nodded his head. "Pretty much," he agreed.

It looked like they would be heading to Nebraska. It was a short drive. They could be there in a few hours, tops. The timing was too much to be coincidence, it had to be something, and was definitely worth looking into. No better way to do that, than in the flesh. "Well, looks like we're-"

Dean was interrupted mid sentence as one of the patrons sitting a couple of tables over from them stood up, and gasped loudly. Her hand came up to her mouth, and was trembling badly. "Someone call 911," another voice cried out and suddenly the whole cafe was a buzz with gasps and whispered comments.

In unison, Sam and Dean turned around to see what was going on. There stood Crowley, bloody and battered with Jenna's body hanging limply in his arms. "What the hell happened?" Dean growled.

"Malphas," Crowley wheezed.

"Is she…" Sam trailed off, his voice choked with emotion. Dean swallowed hard. No, she couldn't be-

"Dead?" Crowley finished for him, finally starting to regain the strength in his voice as his demonic healing began to catch up with the injuries he'd suffered. "No Moose, she's not dead."

"What are you doing here?" Dean demanded.

"Oh I don't know, just fancied a chat," Crowley replied snarkily. "What does it bloody look like? I need your help.  _She_ needs your help." He gestured with his head towards the body he carried.

"You're King of Hell. You got her into this. Fix her!" Dean demanded. By now the entire cafe had gone silent. They could have heard a pin drop. The patrons who had not yet left stood transfixed in fear and confusion. Yet the three of them stood there arguing as if there was no one else around.

Crowley glared at Dean. "Oh gee, I never thought of that," he spat. "Don't you think if I could fix her, I would have? That I wouldn't bloody be here, asking  _you_ , of all people, for help?" Dean knew he was right. If there was any other way, Crowley would have done anything to avoid asking them for help.

Sam rushed over and took the woman's body into his arms. Very quickly he examined the damage that Malphas had done. What he found was concerning. There was a large gash on the back of her skull, the flaps of skin hanging open like a gaping maw, and dried blood around her nose and ears. "We need to get her to a hospital," he said and the urgency in his voice put a swift end to Dean and Crowley's bickering. There would be time to argue later, but right now they needed to do as Sam said.

As the brothers made their way to the Impala, leaving the remaining patrons to exhale a collective sigh of relief and try to sort out what had just happened, Crowley followed a few paces behind. Dean thought the demon looked almost anxious as Sam slid Jenna into the back seat. "Oh no, I don't think so," Dean said as Crowley made his way around to the other side and opened the door to climb in. Dean grabbed it from him and slammed it shut. "You are not coming."

Crowley opened his mouth to protest. "No." Dean repeated, not even letting him speak. "And know this, If she dies, it is on you."

A muscle twitched in Crowley's face, but he said nothing as Sam and Dean got into the car and pulled away. When Dean glanced in the rear view mirror he could see Crowley, his hands shoved into his pockets standing there like an abandoned dog pitched from the truck on the side of some dirt road in the middle of nowhere, waiting faithfully for its owner to return. Crowley watched them until the car faded from view, and Dean couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I realize, that Jenna's "gift" might appear, at first glance, to be more than a little overpowered. But please, please trust me when I say that I have thought this through, and it won't be. That's all I can really say without spoiling things.


	10. Not Part of the Blueprint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-12

The last couple of hours had been a whirlwind. One minute Sam and Dean were sitting in a little Internet cafe searching for signs of Malphas on the Internet. The next they were rushing to the hospital with the woman they thought they had lost for good, and by the looks of her they might not have been wrong. Jenna, still unconscious, had been quickly triaged and then rushed to the ER and seen by a doctor. After what had felt like forever the doctors had done everything they currently could for her and she had been moved to a room in the Intensive Care Unit where she could be closely monitored throughout the night, if she made it that long.

There was an army of machines connected to Jenna, monitoring all of her vital functions. The heart rate monitor beeped a steady beep, her pulse visualized on the monitor. Another monitor displayed her blood oxygen saturation and body temperature. It was a constant whirring and beeping and buzzing as Sam and Dean sat there and waited. The head trauma she had suffered was severe, and the doctors weren't sure if she would survive until morning, let alone wake from the coma she had fallen into.

While his younger brother sat stoically at Jenna's bedside, hands folded in his lap, Dean paced from one side of the hospital room to the other. If he wasn't rubbing the back of his neck he was glancing anxiously at the clock and the doorway.  _What's taking Cas so long?_ he kept asking himself over and over again. While they had drove to the hospital, Sam had called the angel on his cell phone. Something must be wrong, he should have been there by now, shouldn't he have?

Finally, the angel's familiar figure stepped into the doorway. As he stood there and surveyed the room, his bright blue eyes fell upon the woman laying in the bed and his expression turned from serious to grim.

"What took you so long?" Dean lashed out, taking a step towards the angel. It wasn't Castiel that he was angry at so much as he was angry at himself. This woman, they'd taken her on as their responsibility and they had lost her to Crowley. Now she was laying in a coma in a hospital bed in Lebanon. The guilt was devouring him. If only they had gotten to her sooner, if only they had found Crowley and-, and what exactly. He didn't know, but they should have done something.

Sam stood up to greet Cas and smiled apologetically. "What my brother meant to say, is that we're glad you're here," he said.

Castiel frowned still standing in the doorway. "Your wards hid your exact location. It's a big hospital, I got lost," he explained. "The nice lady at the reception desk helped me find my way."

"Yeah, well, we can't be too careful," Dean mumbled as he clasped his friend on the shoulder and led him into the small hospital room. "Malphas wants Jenna for himself, and Heaven wants her dead."

Castiel walked over to the side of Jenna's bed. Since he'd arrived his eyes hadn't left her. "So that's her: The Thing That Should Not Be," he observed. Dean understood what he meant. Cas had told them the prophecy, and the woman looked anything but the part, especially hooked up to all of those machines and IV tubes.

The movement was so subtle Dean almost missed it. If it hadn't been for the light that had glinted off the smooth silver surface of the angel blade, he may not have even caught it at all. "Cas, No!" he shouted as he jumped between the angel and Jenna. Castiel hesitated, blade held still in his hand as if someone had pressed the pause button. "What the hell?" Dean growled. "We asked you here to help her, not kill her."

"That thing," Castiel said, looking at Jenna with disgust then turning to Dean, "is an abomination. It should not be. My mission-"

"Screw your mission," Dean snapped, cutting across the angel. His chiseled features twisted and contorted in anger and disappointment and frustration. "That woman right there, she's a human being, and she hasn't done anything wrong. We are not killing her." There was a finality to his tone that was lost on the angel.

"Dean, we've discussed this," Castiel argued calmly. "She's a monster."

Dean gritted his teeth swore under his breath. "Cas, you're our best friend. You're family. Doesn't that count for anything?" he pleaded. "Please just trust me on this. We can't kill her for something she  _might_  do." As Castiel considered Dean's words, his brows pulled in and his lips pressed together in a slight line.

Sam stepped up next to Dean. Together they formed a wall between the angel and the woman laying helpless on the hospital bed. "Cas, please," he begged. "My brother's right."

With a heavy sigh, Castiel stowed his blade. "I hope we don't end up regretting this," he told them. Sam and Dean stepped aside, allowing the angel to approach Jenna's bedside. As Castiel passed, Sam mouthed a silent _thank you_  to him.

Cocking his head to the side, Castiel observed Jenna for what felt like forever. His face constricted in concentration as though he was struggling to see something the rest of them could not make out. "Usually I can see every damaged cell," Castiel complained, "but with her it is different."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked anxiously.

"I'm not sure," Castiel admitted. Then he laid his hand over Jenna's body, closed his eyes and concentrated. Sam and Dean waited with baited breath as they watched the angel. Dean's eyes kept darting expectantly to the woman's face and to the machines connected to her looking for some sign that whatever Castiel was doing was working. After what felt like forever, the angel removed his hand and let it fall to his side. "I can not help her," he stated.

Dean's heart dropped into his stomach like a stone. "You're an angel of the Lord, what do you mean you can't help her?" he demanded. "You've fixed me up plenty of times."

"This is different," Castiel explained, shaking his head and taking a step away from the hospital bed. "What she is, it isn't part of the blueprint. I'm sorry Dean, there's nothing I can do."

Sam exhaled sharply then chewed the inside of his mouth before dropping once more into the chair at her bedside. Dean ran a worried hand through his hair and turned away, walking toward the window on the far side of the room. All that was left to do was wait. Either the woman would live, or she wouldn't, and there was nothing any of them could do.

* * *

The attack on Crowley's safe house had caught him off-guard, and that bothered him greatly. One thing he prided himself on was always being ten steps ahead of the enemy. Brains over brawn. Yet he had not been prepared for the betrayal of one of his most trusted demon underlings. It was something that would not happen again. First of all, he would not forget that demons could not be trusted. Second of all, he would send a clear message to any that might think to follow in AJ's unfortunate footsteps: it would not be tolerated, it would not be worth it, and those that crossed him would be dealt with ruthlessly.

And he would start with the demon who betrayed him. After Malphas had retreated and the Winchesters had taken care of Jenna, Crowley had channeled all his anger and rage at finding the demon who had sold his safe house out to the enemy. It hadn't taken long to track down the traitorous AJ, and now he had him locked away inside his lab at his base of operations in the long abandoned Needham Asylum near Fall River, Massachusetts. There was no better place to extract the information he required and to begin to exact his revenge.

In the center of the run-down room was AJ, strapped helplessly to a chair that had once been used to secure patients in the insane asylum while doctors performed lobotomies and other questionable procedures intended to cure them or at least make them more docile. The demon was nothing more than a pathetic, blubbering mess. Crowley had been gleefully carving him up for hours.

Here in his lab, Crowley was different. The expensive, perfectly tailored suit had been traded in for faded jeans and a white t-shirt, the tie for a heavy-duty rubber apron. His brown hair was messy and tousled, and his features more relaxed. Gone was the salesman, the business man. Here he was someone else.

Whistling a cheerful tune, Crowley picked up and examined several instruments before settling on a surgical scalpel. "Please. I told you everything. I gave you what you wanted," AJ begged. They all begged. It didn't matter if they were demon or angel, monster or human. Under the torturers knife, they were all the same.

"Yes, you did," Crowley replied with a smile, as he turned the scalpel over in his hand, letting the light glisten off its smooth surface.

"You said if I gave you names, you would stop." AJ's voice became frantic as he struggled in a futile attempt to wriggle free from his bonds. It was a trick Crowley had picked up from the Winchesters during his time locked inside the Men of Letters' dungeon. The straps he used were inscribed with a devil's trap, preventing the demon from leaving his vessel.

"Did I now?" Crowley replied, raising an eyebrow and nodding thoughtfully. "Hmm. I guess I lied." With that, Crowley bent over his subject once more, and dragged the scalpel across his flayed flesh. Slowly, painfully, he began to peel the skin from AJ's chest in wide strips, and oh how AJ screamed! After what the demon had done to him it was like music to his ears. Crowley was the conductor and with each stroke of the blade he was creating a beautiful symphony of agony.

"Please," AJ whimpered when Crowley took a pause to mull over a new instrument with which to torture him. "Please stop. No more."

Crowley settled on a sledge-hammer. The feel of AJ's bones being crushed to dust would be immensely satisfying. Placing the hammer down on the ground next to AJ with a thud that made the demon jump, Crowley leaned down. "I'm afraid, this isn't going to stop. Not ever," he breathed into his ear. "You should have thought about what would happen before you decided to cross the King of Hell. Once your meat suit can take no more and is destroyed beyond repair I will send you back to Hell where you will spend the rest of eternity on the racks." AJ whimpered again. The last time he had been on the rack Alistair had been in charge of his torture, and Alistair was a master of his craft.

Crowley was true to his word and by the time that he was finished with AJ, any demons loyal to Malphas had fled his court and gone into hiding. They knew their time had come. But it didn't matter. They could run, they could hide, but eventually Crowley would find them. There was no demon that could not be bought or tortured into giving up whatever information they had. Not at his hand. Not with the utter rage and determination that fueled his hunt.

So one by one Crowley began to track them down. Each demon he questioned gave him a little more: a tidbit of new information regarding Malphas' plans, a new name for his list of traitors, the location of a safe house where a Malphas loyalist was hiding out. One by one, Crowley rooted out the enemy and butchered them. It was a purge, unlike Hell had ever seen.

* * *

The hospital room was empty and quiet when Jenna awoke from her coma. The only noise was the whirring and beeping of the machines connected to her, monitoring her life signs. There was a long moment of confusion while she tried to work out what was going on and where she was. It was all so confusing. The last thing she remembered was being in Crowley's safe house. Malphas was going to kill Crowley, and without thinking she had bounded across the room and grabbed a hold of the energy he was channeling. For that moment she had seen it so clearly, the way that energy connected all of creation. It had been overwhelming and magnificant, and she had wondered if that wasn't what it must feel like to be God. Then, everything had gone black.

Now she was... she was in a hospital. What had happened, she wondered as she sat up in her hospital bed. As she looked around the empty room and gathered her bearings she suddenly became hyper aware of the IV dripping into her vein and the electrodes taped to her skin. In her hyper aware state they were unreasonably uncomfortable, as if they were invading her skin, and she began to rip them out with feverish intensity.

As the heart rate monitor was disconnected it let out a constant, annoying tone and a nurse came rushing in. She was a short and homely looking woman, with dirty blond hair and dimpled cheeks. "You're awake!" The nurse gasped. Her lips parted and she let out the breath she had been holding.

Jenna rubbed at the spot on her arm where the IV had been. There was nothing more than a little red dot where it had pierced her pale skin. "How long have I been asleep?" she asked.

The nurse was still staring at her in shock, as if she hadn't expected that she would ever wake up. "Eight days," she told her.

 _Eight days._ Jenna's mind went into a tailspin. If she had been here eight days where was Crowley? What had happened to him? Was he dead? Did Malphas win? What would happen to her soul now? As the panic and uncertainty reared its ugly head, her body began to tremble. "Was there anyone else brought in with me?" she asked. The nurse shook her head. Jenna nodded, but her mouth twitched as she tried to hold back a sob. "What about any visitors?" she asked, the desperation clawing its way into her voice.

The nurse offered Jenna a sympathetic smile, the corners of her blue eyes creasing ever so slightly. "A few," she replied as she turned off the monitors and silenced the noise that had all but faded into the background as a million questions had flooded Jenna's mind.

Jenna leaned forward, staring at the nurse intently. "Who?" she asked. The nurse described two men, who could only have been Sam and Dean Winchester. But it didn't make sense. How could they have found her? There was a hesitation, and when she spoke again her voice trembled and cracked. Part of her needed to know, but the other part was scared of what the answer might be. "Was there anyone else?"

The nursed paused and thought back over the last eight days. "Yes. There was another man," she recalled. "Though he only came the once." There was a flutter in her stomach and Jenna's heart skipped a beat. Cautiously she licked her lips and stared questioningly at the nurse, waiting for her to go on. "He was a serious looking fellow, never smiled and always seemed to be concentrating very hard. He had short brown hair and wore a tan trench coat."

Jenna's stomach dropped and her heart physically hurt. "Oh," she replied dejectedly. She let out a heavy sigh and lowered her head breaking eye contact with the nurse. For a moment she had let herself believe that it could have been Crowley, but the man the nurse described was not familiar to her. Though she knew she shouldn't care, she began to cry anyways.

"Is there someone I can call for you?" the nurse asked.

"I uh…" Jenna reached up and wiped away her tears with the back of her wrist as she wracked her brain. She didn't have a phone number for the Winchesters or for Crowley, if he was even still alive. There was only one number she could think of. "My parents, I guess. You could call my parents."

It had been nearly a year since the last time Jenna had seen her parents. Her 'illness' had been hard on them, both financially and emotionally. They always worried, and it was so hard for her to see them suffering like that because of her, so she tended to keep her distance. One thing she knew though, they were her parents and she could always count on them to be there if she needed them. And right now, Jenna really needed someone.


	11. Can't Keep Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-13

Eight days had passed since Sam and Dean had rushed Jenna to the hospital with a severe head trauma. They had visited her often, though the visits were always hard on Dean who blamed himself for letting her get kidnapped by Crowley and get dragged into this mess in the first place. During their visits Sam sat by the side of her bed and talked to her in the hopes that maybe she could hear him. Along with news on their search for Malphas, he told her random bits of everyday life while Dean paced uncomfortably or stared out the window lost in his own mental anguish over what had happened. The last time the brothers had visited her, Jenna had still been in a coma. The next time they would go, she would be gone.

Back at the Men of Letters bunker Sam and Dean continued the painstakingly tedious search for Malphas. Something had changed. Where up until the last couple of days there had been nary a hint of his presence, suddenly demonic sign was abound. For a demon that didn't want to be found he was either being careless, bold, or intentionally letting his activity be seen. Every corner of the continent seemed to be a buzz. Yet with all the sign, they were no closer to locating him. It was, if anything, too much and they would need a miracle to try and sift through it all and narrow things down.

Sam had his head buried in a newspaper, while Dean scoured the internet on his laptop when suddenly there was a loud knock at the front door. Sam put down the newspaper and Dean stood and drew his sidearm. As Dean walked up the stairs and approached the door cautiously, Sam followed. It was unusual for them to get visitors. There weren't many people who knew of the bunker's location. There was Charlie, but she was in Oz, and there was Cas, but he just let himself in.

Sam's heart raced as Dean reached for the door handle and opened the door. On the other side was Crowley. The demon had his arms folded across his chest, and was tapping his polished black shoe impatiently on the ground. "Hello boys," he greeted them. "You know, you really should consider getting a bell," he told Dean.

Sam huffed and shook his head. The demon's presence here surprised and confused him. By the look on Dean's face, Sam suspected Crowley's unannounced visit had taken him by surprise just as much. "What are you doing here?" Dean grumbled.

Crowley toed the line at the entrance to the bunker, unable to cross due to the complex warding protecting the building. "Can't I stop in for a visit?" he asked teasingly.

"No," Sam and Dean answered in unison, their bodies blocking the door even though they both knew he could not cross.

Crowley placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me, boys," he replied overly-dramatically. "I thought we were friends."

"We are not friends," Sam responded quickly and without hesitation. There was loathing in his voice. The fact that once in a while Crowley proved useful didn't change the fact that he was a demon, and it didn't erase the things he had done. Crowley had exploited a loophole in Bobby's contract and refused to return his soul, which he stole away to Hell. In his quest for the demon tablet, he had gone back and started systematically killing the very people the hunters had saved. He had killed Kevin Tran's girlfriend and mother, and had kidnapped and tortured the prophet into translating the angel tablet for him. Crowley was a monster.

Dean hadn't budged from the doorway. "Now why don't you tell us why you're here," he demanded of Crowley. "This isn't a social call."

Heaving a great sigh, the demon rolled his eyes. "I have information about Malphas," he offered. The first thought through Sam's head was that it was a trap or a ploy. Nothing was ever quite as it seemed when it came to Crowley. There was no way that he would just show up at their doorstep and offer them something they needed if he wasn't getting something in return.

"Okay, so talk," Dean replied curtly.

Crowley raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, not having to speak to know what was on each other's mind. Crowley, couldn't be trusted but they had nothing else to go on. It would take them a lifetime, if not more, to sort through all of the sign and by then Malphas would be long gone. If Crowley had information, they should at least hear him out and see what he was after. "This had better be good," Dean muttered unhappily and Sam scratched away part of one of the wards, allowing Crowley to enter.

The three of them headed down to the strategy room. While Dean went and fetched a couple of beer for himself and Sam, Crowley paced around the table examining the world map which was littered with the location of all the current demon signs. It made Sam uneasy, having Crowley here perusing over all of their work, as if he were bared open and violated. Sometimes though, in their line of work, they had to work with the enemy. It didn't mean he had to like it.

When Dean returned, Crowley glanced up from the map and look at him affront. "Not going to offer a girl a drink?" he asked.

Dean handed Sam a beer and sank down into a chair, popping the lid off his own and took a long swig before answering. "Nope," he replied, shaking his head. Sam chuckled at the look of offense on the demon's face.

Crowley glared at the hunter. "You know Squirrel, you're a piss poor host," he grumbled.

"Don't care," Dean replied dismissively. Crowley huffed and snapped his fingers. A glass of Scotch appeared on the table in front of him and he sat down.

The two of them could bicker back and forth all day. "Look, you came here to tell us something," Sam interjected, before either could make another jab at the other. "What is it?"

Crowley sighed, clearly disappointed. It seemed the demon rather enjoyed their contemptuous banter. "In case you haven't noticed, Malphas is up to, well, a lot lately, to say the least," he told them. Sam and Dean nodded. Pinned on the map in the center of the table were the locations of all Malphas' suspected activity. A lot was an understatement if anything. The Prince of Hell seemed to have his meddling little hands in everything. "Well, wouldn't you like to know what it is?" Crowley asked. "To connect the dots, so to speak?"

"Yes, so why don't you just get to the point," Dean snapped impatiently.

Crowley went on to tell them what he had learned. Without access to the woman, Malphas was setting up for plan B: a multi-faceted strike to destabilize Earth. By targeting military bases, he planned to create chaos. Malphas would start World War III, but he wasn't going to stop there. The power grid, banks, hospitals, pharmaceutical companies, and more would all be his. As the world would fall apart, the human race would have no choice but to turn to him, and accept his help in return for their servitude.

"Do you have anything else?" Sam asked once the demon had stopped talking.

Crowley held out his empty palms. "Afraid that's all for now boys."

Dean stood up to dismiss him. "Okay then. I guess we're done here," he told him coolly. Sam let out a sigh of relief. Being near Crowley made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and made every muscle in his body tense until it hurt. However, Crowley stood but didn't leave. Sam noted that he looked rather like a lost puppy dog. Dean exhaled noisily and rolled his eyes. "What is it, Crowley?"

Crowley shifted his weight awkwardly, hands shoved into the pockets of his suit jacket. Sam cocked his head curiously to the side as he watched him. The demon always carried himself with such presence and self-confidence. "The woman…" Crowley asked tentatively. "have you heard anything?"

Sam's mouth gaped open for a moment, and glancing at his brother he saw his expression matched his own. "Get out!" Dean shouted, pointing at the door. Crowley disappeared and Sam and Dean were left shaking their heads at the spot the demon had occupied only moments before.

* * *

Kenneth and Anne James were ordinary people. They had been highschool sweethearts and married when Anne was eighteen and Kenneth was twenty two. Though they tried for years, Anne was eventually told by her doctor that she would not be able to bear children and she had given up. Eight years later, by some miracle, she found herself pregnant. After the nine months that followed, their little girl was born. They named her Jenna.

It was at a very early age that the parents had realized there was something different about their daughter. Once she was able to speak, Jenna told them about the things she saw. Horrible things. She told them about monsters, men with black eyes, and people filled with light.

Kenneth and Anne took Jenna to their family doctor, who referred them to a psychiatrist. Jenna was eventually diagnosed with schizophrenia, even though all of the doctors that consulted on her case agreed they had never before seen the illness present itself in someone so young. There was though no other reasonable explanation for the delusions and vivid hallucinations the young girl experienced.

Over the years, Jenna was prescribed a myriad of different medications that were supposed to help manage her illness. Though she was convinced she was crazy, nothing stopped her from seeing the demons and other creatures. All she could do was try to hide it the best she could, to try not to cause her parents any more pain and suffering.

Then she had met the Winchesters and been kidnapped by the very King of Hell, and everything had changed. The world, the  _real_ world, had opened up to her, and for once in her life things had begun to make sense. How on Earth was she supposed to go back to living a normal life as if nothing had happened.

"How have you been?" Kenneth asked, as the family sat down for their first dinner together in nearly a year.

Jenna pushed some peas around on her plate with her fork. "I've been… okay," she answered.

"We haven't heard from you in months," her father told her, as if she wasn't painfully aware of the worry they must have felt. "And then we get a call that you're in the hospital. That you'd been in a coma for eight days…."

Jenna put down her fork and looked up at him. He had not so much as touched the food on his plate and his face was contorted with worry, and confusion, and grief. Though he tried to keep the emotion from his voice, he failed miserably. A lump formed in the pit of Jenna's stomach. What could she possibly say to comfort him, to make this all okay.

"We went looking for you, you know," her mother, Anne, added. Her frail hands tugged at the corners of the cloth napkin on her lap. "We asked around, people who might have seen you…"

"I'm so sorry, mom. I should have called." All Jenna wanted to do was jump up, hug them both, and beg them not to worry about her. They had done more than enough worrying over the last twenty-eight years, and she would never forgive herself for the sleepless nights and grey hairs she had caused them.

"About a month ago we found a homeless man, he said he knew you," Anne told her. "He said the last time he saw you you were being chased by three men into an alley. He never saw you come out, and when he went to check, you were gone."

"Did they do this to you?" her father asked. "Did they hurt you?"

"No, dad, they didn't hurt me," Jenna answered. "I got away. I met these two guys... good, kind people. They helped me," she said of Sam and Dean, though she did not mention what happened after.

"Honey, what happened to you?" her mother sobbed. "Why were you in the hospital? Who did this to you?" The pitch of her voice kept getting higher and higher and her hands continued to fret with the napkin in her lap.

 _You would never believe me if I told you,_ Jenna thought to herself. "I… it's… it's complicated," she said not knowing what to tell them. WHat she did know was that this was why she kept her distance. This was why she stayed away. She couldn't bear to see them like this and know that she was the source of their suffering.

* * *

At the hospital Castiel had promised Dean that he would not tell Heaven where Jenna was. He had agreed to allow the woman to live for now and see what choice she would make. However he had known that neither Heaven nor Malphas would give up until they found her so he had burned Enochian sigils into her ribcage to conceal her from angels and demons alike, in case they learned her true identity. It was a move he hoped he did not regret.

Now he found himself once again in Heaven's war room. This time talking to Ingrid. Like Hannah, Ingrid and Castiel had history where they had fought on opposing sides, but also like Hannah, Ingrid was loyal to Heaven, and when Metatron revealed himself for what he truly was, she had done the right thing and helped to overthrow him. Castiel could not fault her for the choices she made when all she had ever done was what she thought was best for Heaven.

"There seems to be something to the intel you received from the Winchesters," Ingrid informed him, snapping Castiel out of the thoughts and the doubt he was drowning in.

Ingrid wore a smart-looking navy-blue power suit and a white blouse. Her dark, almost-black hair was let down, and flowed over her shoulders in loose waves. She was a low-ranking angel in intelligence, but one of the best analysts they had. He had put her in charge of analyzing information on Malphas' activities.

Ingrid pointed to a location on the large world map they had in the war room. "Here west of Fayetteville in North Carolina there have been a rash of livestock and pet mutilations, as well as unexplained and bloody deaths," she informed him. "The Fort Bragg military base is nearby. We have reason to believe that Malphas' demons have already infiltrated some high-ranking command."

Castiel nodded solemnly. If what Sam and Dean had told him was true, and it appeared as if it was, this was very, very bad. If Malphas's demons were possessing military command they would be in control of somebody very deadly weapons that could be used against their own people or to start World War Three.

"We have seen similar activity, here and here," Ingrid continued. "We have been looking at various points of interest in the vicinities to try and determine probable targets," she explained. "We believe he may be after the Clinton Power Station in Illinois, and possibly Celgene Corporation, they are a major biotech company located in Summit New Jersey."

"That makes sense if what Crowley told the Winchester's is true," Castiel noted. Wreak havoc and hold the human race hostage, trading them their continued existence for their eternal servitude. It was a plan of monumentous proportions, but it wasn't outside of the realm of possibilities. It looked as though the Prince of Hell was well on his way to lining everything up for his take over.

At the mention of the demon's name, Ingrid's body tensed. "I don't see how you can trust him. He's a demon, the King of Hell…"

"I don't," Castiel told her firmly. "But I do trust Sam and Dean. And what we see here," he gestured to the points on the same map she had been using, "only supports the theory." Ingrid nodded, but herexpression was one of dislike. "Keep searching and see what else you can find," Castiel told her. "We need an actual location where Malphas is hiding."

Ingrid nodded again. "On it," she assured him.

Castiel stood for a moment more, watching as she dove headfirst back into her work. Part of him wished he could just stay here and assist however he could on the hunt for Malphas, because on the other side of the war room sat Hannah, leading the search for The Thing That's Should Not Be. And Castiel had not only had her in his grasp and let her go, he had actively interfered with any attempt to locate her by burning the Enochian sigils into her ribs. If Hannah saw through his lies, any hope of his past sins being forgiven and being welcomed back in Heaven as Jehoel had promised would be squashed like a bug.

* * *

It had been a week since Jenna's parents had picked her up from the hospital. After the awkwardness of the initial evening, Kenneth and Anne seemed to have recognized that Jenna wasn't ready to talk about what had happened. All they told her, was that when she was ready, they would be there. How could she tell them though, when she knew they would never believe her.

The early morning news was playing on the TV when Jenna joined her parents in the living room. She sat down on the chocolate brown suede couch, and tucked her feet underneath her while she sipped at a hot cup of coffee.

Her mother sat on the other end an open novel in her hands. Judging by the cover it wasn't some trashy romance novel, Jenna thought, and a smile spread across her lips. Some things never changed. Many things never changed. Her dad sat, leaned back in the recliner, newspaper in his lap and coffee at husband side, just like he always had when she was a kid.

Anne looked up from her book and smiled a two her. "Good morning, sweetheart," she greeted.

"Good morning mom, dad," Jenna replied, smiling back. It had been so long, and she's hadn't realized just Howe much she had missed them, how much she had missed being a family until she had come back. Of course, any other time her 'illness' would have eventually driven her away as she tried to spare them any more suffering.

The voice of the newscaster droned in the background, and the warm fuzzy feeling of belonging was replaced by the dread that the thing she she saw would never let her stay and live a normal life.

_Following the rash of cattle mutilations that started in Albion Nebraska, it appears as if copy cat criminals are popping up all around the country. Similar cases have been discovered near Fayetteville, North Carolina, Clinton, Illinois, and Summit New Jersey..._

Jenna's attention disengaged from her parents and settled fully on the news program. A chill ran down her spine and she crossed her arms reflexively across her chest. Deep down in her gut, she knew it was Malphas. It had to be.

"Something wrong, honey?" Anne asked, her brow wrinkled as she regarded her daughter.

Jenna let out a heavy sigh. Everything was wrong. There was a cosmic battle brewing for Hell, Heaven and Earth, and here she was, hiding in her parent's living room trying to pretend like nothing was going on. "I just don't know what to do," she admitted.

Kenneth picked up the remote and turned the TV off, offering her his full attention. "Tell us what's going on. Let us help you," he encouraged her.

Jenna stared down at the coffe cup he held in her hands. "You couldn't possibly understand," she replied quietly.

"We're your parents," Kenneth reminded her. "We don't have to understand. We love you, and whatever it is, we will do whatever we can to help you."

"I made this deal. I, I didn't know what else to do. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But, I don't think I can do it," Jenna explained, choosing her words very carefully. "And now I don't know if the guy is even still alive, but if he is, I have to find him. If I don't something really, really bad is going to happen," she sobbed, surprised by the floodgates that had opened as she let her burdens spill out. How long had it been since she had someone to confide in.

Anne's face went ashen. Her frail hands clasped together in her lap and she stared at her daughter, and Jenna immediately regretted saying anything at all, but she had needed to. She needed to get there thoughts off her chest before they buried her alive and she suffocated on them. "Who have you gotten yourself tangled up with?" Her mother asked anxiously. "Is it a gang?" Jenna shook her head. "The mob?" Jenna shook her head again. "A loan shark?"

"No mom," Jenna told her, her voice slightly exasperated. "It's nothing like that."

"We'll go to the police," her dad told her. He was leaning intently forward in the recliner. "Whoever this guy is, we'll get you protection," he assured her with the confidence of someone who believed the world was exactly as he was told it was.

Jenna closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "You don't understand, the police can't help me."

"Don't be silly, of course they can," Anne insisted.

"No they can't. This isn't just some guy. This isn't just some regular deal, okay?" Jenna snapped, her voice harsher than she intended. The coffee in her cup nearly spilt as her hands shook. Jenna struggled to maintain her composure, but it was so hard. With everything that was going on in the world, and everything she knew now, and all of the doubts and uncertainties she was struggling with.

"What on earth do you mean?" Anne asked.

Jenna let out a long sigh, and closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the look on her parents' faces. "I traded my soul to the King of Hell. If I don't help him defeat this other demon who is trying to overthrow him, he gets my soul for all eternity." She waited, but her confession was met by silence. Finally she opened her eyes and peeked at her parents. Both stared at her with a stunned look on their faces, like deer caught in the headlights.

It was her mom that eventually spoke first. "Honey, listen to me… this is your illness. You're not well. You need help," she told her as she reached out to take her hand in her own.

Jenna pulled her hand away and tears pricked in the corner of her mother's eyes making Jenna feel even worse than she already did. "No. I'm not sick. Demons are real," she replied sternly. This was turning into a train wreck, but it was too late she'd already boarded and now she was picking up speed and spiraling out of control with it. All she could do now was hold on for dear life and see where it ended up. "You wanted to know where I've been, what happened to me. Well here you go. I'll tell you."

"Jenna…" Her father spoke softly as he stood and walked over to her.

"Those three guys that chased me into the alley were demons working for Malphas. He's a Prince of Hell." Once Jenna began talking, it was like a torrent. The words kept on flowing as she frantically recalled her tale. "The two guys that saved me, their names are Sam and Dean Winchester. They hunt monsters for a living. We were going back to their bunker, where we could be safe while we figured things out, but we stopped at this motel. The Creston."

"Wait, I know that name," Kenneth exclaimed. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head. "I saw that place on the news. There were three murders there."

"Yes. Malphas's demons followed us there," Jenna exclaimed, looking up hopeful that maybe somehow something would get through to them and they would understand. "But anyways, we were at the motel and I ran, quite literally, into Crowley. He's the King of Hell and he kidnapped me and teleported me to this mansion."

"He teleported you?" Kenneth asked incredulously, and Jenna knew her words weren't getting through. "Are you even listening to what you're saying? Jenna, you have to know this isn't real."

"I am, and I know how it sounds, but this is what happened," Jenna insisted, she just needed to get it out there before it swallowed her whole. One day they might realize she wasn't crazy. That day, she knew, would probably not be today but that didn't matter. "Crowley promised me my freedom in exchange for helping him defeat Malphas," Jenna continued her confession. "Problem being, if I backed out of the deal, he gets my soul. I didn't know what else to do, so I agreed."

Anne clasped Kenneth's hand in her own, and they gave each other a sad, knowing look. It was a look Jenna had seen so many times before. "I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner," her father told her. "That we didn't find you before your illness got worse."

"But we can get you help," Anne assured her.

"I'm not sick!" Jenna protested. "This is what happened. I made this deal with Crowley and then Malphas showed up at the mansion and attacked him," Jenna continued insistently. "I got in the middle and that's the last thing I remember before I woke up in the hospital. The doctors said I had a severe brain bleed from the head trauma." Turning her head, Jenna lifted a section of her straight red hair, a feature she got from her mother though her mother was now almost entirely grey. Underneath she revealed the row of stitches that closed the deep gash on the back of her head.

"You're confused. It's the head injury," Anne pleaded, squeezing her husband's hand tighter.

Jenna knew her parents were just trying to make sense of what she was saying. It was the same conclusion any reasonable person would come to, but it didn't mean they were right. "I'm not confused, mom. I know what happened. I know what I am now," Jenna told her unequivocally. "All the things I've seen, they're real. I can see creation. I can touch it. I am The Thing That Should Not Be. Crowley, he showed me what I can do. It is a gift, not a curse."

"Jenna, you're not well," Kenneth told her sternly.

"Please," Anne begged. "Let us call Dr. Ross and make an appointment for you."

"I'm not crazy! I don't need a psychiatrist," Jenna shouted, jumping to her feet. "Don't you get it? I was  _never_ crazy!"

Her mom held out her hand. "Honey please, calm down. If you could only hear yourself. All this nonsense about demons. They're not real."

There was no way she could make them understand. No matter what she said, she would still sound crazy. Jenna knew she couldn't stay, not anymore, and it broke her heart. "I'm sorry. I love you both so much, but I have to go," Jenna told them, tears in her eyes. "There is a war going on, not just for Hell, but for Heaven and Earth too. Like it or not, I'm a part of it now. I don't expect you to understand. I don't expect you to believe me. But, I can't keep running from what I am and from what I have to do."

Jenna rushed out the door and she didn't look back, because she couldn't bear to see her parents' tear-stained faces knowing that once again she was the one who had made them cry. Scrounging what change she had left, she caught a bus back towards the hospital. During one of their long evening chats Crowley had told her about reapers. They collected the souls of the dead and helped them cross over and get to where they were supposed to be. If anyone could get her into Hell, it would be a reaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews, kudos, and follows so far! It means a lot to me. If you can, please take a moment to leave a review. Let me know what you like, what you don't like, what I could do better. Your feedback is very valuable and greatly appreciated :)


	12. Welcome to Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-15

Life had never been simple for Jenna. It had never been easy. However, never had she imagined just how complicated and difficult it could get. Finding a reaper in the hospital hadn't been too bad. Convincing it to take her to Hell had been more of a challenge. What she had to do next, that was the hard part. Never had she imagined that she would be standing here, in Hell of all places, looking for the demon that held a contract on her soul.

The reaper had not told Jenna what to expect, but in her mind she had pictured Hell as lava and fire and blood and screaming agony. Instead, she found herself at the back of a long queue standing on one side of a stanchion and rope barrier, like they have in airports or museums to herd the masses along. In this case they were being herded towards a doorway at the end of the corridor.

Glancing up, Jenna saw a sign that read ' _Next in line: 11,547,893._ ' There was no way she was standing there waiting for her turn. Earning some mumbled protests and pointed glares from the others in queue, Jenna ducked under the rope and ran down the length of the corridor, bursting through the door at the other end only to find herself in another corridor. It was lit by the same dim, yellow lights and had the same stained, cream coloured walls. This corridor looked absolutely identical to the one she had just been in. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure it wasn't the same corridor.

Slowly she felt it begin to bubble up in her chest: an utter, terrifying helplessness. The reaper had made it perfectly clear that once Jenna made it to Hell, she was on her own. If she couldn't find a way out of this queue, if she couldn't find Crowley, she would be stuck here indefinitely. In absolute desperation, Jenna ran through the door at the end of the corridor. Again and again and again always to end up in seemingly the same place. Panting hard Jenna turned to the man standing next to her. "Do you know what is at the end of this line?"

The skinny man jumped, seemingly startled to hear another voice. "There is no end," he replied.

That wasn't possible. "There has to be an end," Jenna reasoned. It couldn't just go on forever, could it? Then again, this was Hell. If she was stuck in this corridor forever, she had no idea how she was supposed to find Crowley. "How long have you been waiting here?" she asked, completely unprepared for the answer she would receive.

"Twenty three years," the man told her dismally and Jenna noticed how grey and lifeless his eyes appeared in their sunken sockets.

 _Twenty three years._  Those words stuck Jenna hard in the chest as if someone had knocked the wind out of her. Any sense of confidence she'd once possessed deflated, leaving her feeling limp like a popped inner tube. "Crowley!" she hollered at the top of her lungs. Over and over again, until her voice was hoarse, she called desperately for him but was met only by silence and the sound of shuffling feet.

A short, portly woman from the line laughed. "Ain't nobody listening, dear."

"This can't be all there is," Jenna sobbed. There had to be something she could do, some way out of the queue, some way to get Crowley's attention. "Crowley, this is your kingdom, there must be more than this. Where are you?" No answer came. Feeling absolutely helpless and powerless, Jenna collapsed to her knees in defeat. Beside her, the queue pressed on at its snail pace, no one else paying her any mind. It was perfect, simple, efficient Hell.

* * *

The Needham Asylum in Fall River, Massachusetts, long since decommissioned, now Crowley's Lair had been turned into his base of operations on Earth when he had become King of Hell. Preferring, as most demons did, to spend his time on Earth rather than in Hell, Crowley had also located his throne there, where he held court on matters pertaining to his kingdom of Hell.

One by one his demons approached the throne and brought Crowley all of their usual reports. There were decrees to be signed. Traitors to be executed. There were, of course the soul counts. With each new soul brought to Hell, Crowley was able to harness that power. They ultimately belonged to him and that is what gave him strength as King. There were also updates on all of the latest crossroads deals to be approved. Occasionally, as former King of the Crossroads, Crowley would still take over a deal of particular interest. Although lately he had not been doing so as often as he had his hands full dealing with Malphas.

Amidst all of the routine, boring business, a single demon came rushing into the throne room. He currently possessed a young Asian vessel, with short black hair. Desperate to get to Crowley, he pushed past all the other demons until he stood before his King. "Your Majesty," the demon panted. "There is a problem. In Hell."

Crowley closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed at his temple. It wasn't possible. Hell was the perfect system which he had re-designed himself. "And do tell me, …" Crowley trailed off. It occurred to him that he could not remember the demon's name. Of course it didn't surprise him. Keeping track of all of the names of his underlings hardly seemed worth the while unless of course they showed some sign of promise, which few did.

The demon stood awkwardly, waiting for Crowley. "Leraje, Your Majesty," he told him finally.

"Yes, of course," Crowley replied, his tone dismissive. "Now do tell. What problem could there possibly be in Hell?"

Leraje was unphased by his King's coldness. Though he hesitated before giving Crowley the bad news. The King had a bit of a reputation and a temper when it came to receiving news he didn't like. What was the saying? Kill the messenger. "The souls in the queue, they're… they're rioting," Leraje told him.

"They're what?" Crowley asked head tilting and eyebrows arching ever so slightly. The souls had never done anything except for what they were supposed to: stand in the endless queue until every last modicum of hope and happiness had left them.

"They're rioting," the demon, Leraje, repeated.

For a moment, Crowley sat in stunned silence. Hell had been his perfect system and it had run flawlessly since the redesign. Now, of all times, the souls were rioting. "Well, get someone down there," he shouted, "and get them back in line!"

The demons standing closest to him flinched. "We have already sent someone to deal with the mess," Leraje assured him, though his voice was shaky. "But Your Majesty, there is one other thing…"

Crowley sighed in exasperation and resisted the urge to reach up and tear his hair out in large clumps. Demons: it was like dealing with a group of sociopathic five year olds - always having to ask all the questions and hold their hands through everything while watching to make sure they didn't stab him in the back. "What other thing?" he growled through gritted teeth.

Leraje fidgeted nervously. It's as though he knew he was one wrong word away from being destroyed in a fit of rage. "There is a woman, a live, human woman. She insists she needs to speak with you. We believe she is the one who incited the riot."

Crowley perked up and some of the anger faded from his voice. Leraje and the other demons seemed to sigh a collective sigh of relief at the change in his demeanor. Everyone had been on edge. "Does this woman have a name?" Crowley asked, daring to hope that it could be...

"Yes, Your Majesty," Leraje answered him. "Her name is Jenna James."

* * *

Back in Hell, Jenna's antics had indeed earned her the attention of the demons. Not the particular demon she was looking for, but it was a start. Maybe. That or a terrible mistake. What if the demons didn't listen? What if they didn't take her to see Crowley? In the end, it didn't matter. She had to try or she'd be doomed anyways.

One of the cruel denizens of Hell had seized Jenna after the commotion she had started. Now he stood behind her with her helplessly in his powerful arms he hissed wickedly in her ear all of tortures he planned to subject her to. Though Jenna struggled, it was a fruitless endeavor. Physically demons were much stronger than any human, and Jenna wasn't particularly strong to begin with. Even if she had better understood how to use and control her power, with her arms pinned to her side, there would have been nothing she could have done.

"I need to speak to Crowley!" Jenna screamed for the hundred and thirteenth time. Her throat was so raw she could taste the metallic tang of blood and knew she should stop, but she couldn't. If she gave up, she'd be trapped here forever. If she gave up, the demon that held her would make good on his promises.

This time, however, her plea wasn't met by silence or the mocking laughter of the demon that held her. Instead, it was met by a familiar voice with a gravelly, British accent. "Ask and ye shall receive."

"Crowley," Jenna breathed in a sigh of relief. Still held in the demon's arms, she stopped struggling and looked up. The King of Hell stood in the corridor in front of her, dressed immaculately as always. He was a sight for sore eyes and Jenna thought he had never looked quite as handsome as he did right now. Smiling his charming smile, Crowley bowed dramatically, then as he straightened himself up, he addressed the demon and commanded him to release her. "Took you long enough," Jenna murmured.

"Hello to you too, darling," Crowley replied, flashing her a cheeky grin. "Welcome to Hell." Jenna's eyes met his gaze and her stomach began to flutter. She told herself it was just relief, but there was a tugging in her chest that made her doubt whether or not it might be more than that. The longer she looked into those mischievous brown eyes of his, the more she desperately wanted to run to him. Moisture flooded into her mouth until she had to swallow, offering him a weak, hesitant smile. "So tell me, Red, how did you…"

"A reaper," Jenna answered quickly, before he could even finish the question. There was a gleam in her eyes.

Crowley looked her up and down as he appraised her. "But you're not…"

"Dead. I know," Jenna finished, interrupting him once more. The two stared at each other. Crowley nodded thoughtfully and Jenna's hesitant smile spread into a grin. She had done it. She had gone to Hell and she had found him. Her heart leaped inside her chest.

Crowley held out his hand, offering it to her. "What do you say we get out of here?" he asked. This time Jenna didn't hesitate to reach out and take it. At the touch of his skin against hers the fluttering in her stomach turned into somersaults. A tiny gasp escaped her lips as she glanced, wide-eyed at the King of Hell. No, no, no, no no... she couldn't be falling for him of all people. He was a demon. He was the King of Hell.

* * *

In Heaven's war room, the angels were dutifully working on their missions. Castiel had just finished checking in with Ingrid, who had plotted another seventeen potential targets of Malphas where demonic sign was highly concentrated. As before, it appeared he was targeting military bases, power stations, hospitals, banks, biotech firms, and even schools.

Castiel walked across the room, to where Hannah was busy directing her team in the search for The Thing That Should Not Be. With each step, his chest tightened. If angels could sweat, his palms would have been dripping like a leaky faucet. "Hello Hannah," he croaked.

Hannah glanced up from her work and smiled at him. It was a warm, friendly smile. "Hello Castiel."

Castiel cleared the thick mucous that was gathering in his throat. "Any, erm, progress finding the weapon?" he asked awkwardly.

Hannah's eyes narrowed as she studied his face. Panic began to tighten around Castiel's chest like a boa-constrictor slowly squeezing the life out of its next meal. Lying wasn't something he was good at. Sure, he had deceived his closest friends when he had worked with Crowley to crack open Purgatory in an attempt to become the new God, but that was different. Sam and Dean had trusted him unquestioningly, and he had betrayed that trust. The other angels had no reason to trust him and he feared that she could see right through him, and if they found out that he had not only lied to them, but actively interfered with the mission there would be nothing he could do to earn their forgiveness. Joshua would never welcome him back to Heaven.

"No," Hannah replied finally, letting out a disappointed sigh. She raked her fingers through her long, chestnut brown hair. "Nothing. I don't even know where to start. I have all of my resources looking for any sign whatsoever, but there is none."

There was no sign of her because he had purposefully hidden the woman from them with the Enochian sigils he had burned into her ribs. Still, a wave of relief washed over him. Hannah was a good intelligence officer, and if she hadn't even the faintest sign of the woman, that meant that Castiel's protection was working, and the sigils were keeping her hidden. Of course, the problem was that they not only hid her from demons and the other angels, they hid her from him as well. If Sam and Dean were wrong, then he would have made a grievous mistake that he would have no way of righting.

Castiel brought a hand to his chin and nodded his head. Hannah was a very talented angel. It made no sense to have her continue the farce search he himself was actively interfering with when her talents would be much better put to use searching for an enemy that could be found."Ingrid is getting close to locating Malphas," Castiel informed her. "Perhaps it would be wise for you to join her."

Hannah's eyes widened in surprise. "What?" she gaped indignantly.

Perhaps he could have broached the proposition better. "It's just," Castiel fumbled for his words.

"No, Castiel," Hannah shook her head vigorously, hands planted solidly on the desk where all of her notes and research was laid out. "Malphas is dangerous, but the weapon, it is paramount. Whatever Malphas will do is nothing, nothing compared to the damage The Thing That Should Not Be will do. All of creation depends on this," she reminded him, and the certainty of her words left him doubting the choice he had made even further.

Castiel shifted his weight awkwardly. Hannah had a point, but so did Sam and Dean. The woman, while she could destroy all of creation, had done nothing wrong. Being an angel had been so much simpler before he had met the Winchesters, when all that had mattered was following orders and completing his mission. Free will was a murky pool of water full of hidden dangers. It was hard, never knowing what choice was the right one, or if there was even a right choice. All he could do was hope that he hadn't made a terrible mistake and doomed everyone and everything.

* * *

Following their sudden appearance in Crowley's Lair at the Needham Asylum, Jenna had promptly doubled over the porcelain toilet and emptied the contents of her stomach. Teleportation did not agree with her. Cleaned up, though still sweating and nauseous she had rejoined Crowley who had offered her a bottle of water, which she gladly accepted. The cool, clear liquid made her feel instantly better.

"Where are we?" Jenna asked as she looked around taking in her surroundings. The building they were in seemed old and run down, built of brick, and stone, and mortar. There were candles lining the walls casting a dim, flickering light across the space.

"Fall River, Massachusetts," Crowley informed her.

Jenna swung her head around, surveying the dank, dimly-lit space again. "This isn't part of Hell?" she asked.

"No, Red, this isn't Hell," Crowley laughed. "Even I spend as little time in that cess pit as possible."

"Oh." Somehow that surprised Jenna. After all, Hell was Crowley's kingdom, she had thought he would have had a more favorable opinion of it. "Is this another one of your safe houses then?" she asked, trying to make sense of her situation

"Not exactly," Crowley explained. "This is my base of operations here on Earth. Come, let me show you around." He held out a hand, gesturing for her to follow. The tour, for the most part was very brief. Crowley touched upon most of the relevant areas, apologizing for the state of the washrooms and showers. They were of little use to demons, and as such had been neglected since the building had been abandoned decades previous. It was something he would have one of his subjects see to immediately, he promised her.

The kennels were next. Crowley followed close behind and watched Jenna with what could only be described as curiosity as she approached one of the seemingly empty cages. There was a snarl before the invisible beast slammed into the bars, barking and growling ferociously. Startled, Jenna jumped back bumping into Crowley, who's large, warm hands found her shoulders to steady her. "Down boy," Crowley commanded calmly, and the snarling ceased.

Jenna glanced back at Crowley, who still held onto her. "A hell hound," she noted, remembering one of their many talks back at the study in his safe house. Her heart thumped in her chest at the demon's proximity, but not in fear. It was something else she was feeling. "They obey you."

"Of course they obey me. I'm their  _master_ ," Crowley replied.

His choice of words wasn't lost on Jenna as she stared, focused on where the beast would be until slowly the black swirl of its soul came into focus. Crowley was very much in a position of power and accustomed to getting what he wanted. He was, after all, King of Hell. Would he expect the same obedience from her as he did from his demons and his pets? That wasn't part of her deal though, she reminded herself. All she had to do was defeat Malphas.

"Come," Crowley bid her to leave the kennels so they could finish the tour. There were some rooms, of course, that were off limits. Crowley's lab, an old surgical room where they used to perform lobotomies and which Crowley had transformed into his personal torture chamber, was one such room. Naturally he did not tell her its purpose, just that she was not to enter. "You know, I'm impressed," Crowley told Jenna before they entered the throne room, while they were still out of earshot of his demons. "Not many humans could do what you've done. Not many would. To find a reaper and go willingly to Hell."

Jenna's heart fluttered at the compliment and her chest swelled with pride. Somehow she felt that the demon did not give out praise lightly. "I'm not just any ordinary human," she reminded him playfully. "I'm The Thing That Should Not Be."

Crowley chuckled. "That you are."

"Besides, I had a good teacher," Jenna added, her voice dropping lower and a faint pink blushing her freckled cheeks.

There was a slight pause in Crowley's step that she almost missed. Almost, but not quite. "Not good," Crowley corrected. "The best."

Jenna laughed light-heartedly, feeling strangely at ease with the demon in this unfamiliar place. "The best then," she agreed, stealing a glance at Crowley. She could have sworn she saw something soften in his features.

"What do you say we start your lessons again in the morning?" Crowley suggested as they entered the throne room walking side by side.

Jenna turned to face him and brushed away a strand of red hair that had come loose. "I'd like that," she said, biting her bottom lip as she looked up at him. She'd like any reason, she realized, to spend time with him, and she wondered briefly if it would be possible that he would like it too or if all that mattered to him was that she could defeat his enemy.

Crowley nodded and cleared his throat. "I can not take leave of my operations as I did before. It presents too great an opportunity for Malphas to turn my demons against me. That's the problem with demons you see: no loyalty." He gave a scathing glance around the room at his subjects.

"I will stay here with you then," Jenna said perhaps a little too quickly as she took in the room around her. Crowley's throne sat atop a couple of steps under a half moon window. It looked regal. A seat fit for a king. The room itself was brick and mortar, stone pillars and archways. Candles and torches provided the only light.

Crowley nodded. "That's right, Red." Leading her past the throne room, he opened a door and they stepped into another expansive room. The stone and brickwork continued. There was a king size four poster bed, with lavish satin sheets and an expensive down comforter in deep browns and maroons. There were solid wood desks, book shelves and storage shelves filled with ancient looking artifacts. "You can sleep here, in my private quarters," Crowley told her.

Slowly, Jenna wandered through the room. "Where will you sleep?" She asked nervously.

"I'm a demon, remember. Demons don't need to sleep," Crowley reminded her.

Jenna turned to him, a perplexed look on her face. "Then why do you have a bed?" she asked innocently.

A smirk spread across Crowley's face, though he said nothing. He didn't need to, that look said it all. Jenna mumbled incoherently, her gaze darting anywhere but at the demon. She could feel the heat rushing up her neck to her cheeks. The grin on Crowley's face only got wider. He seemed to take pleasure in getting her all flustered. Something he managed quite easily.

"If you need anything, I'll be in the throne room," Crowley told her, still grinning wickedly as he turned to leave. Jenna nodded fervently, her pale blue eyes still avoiding his.

Once Crowley was gone she breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly the tension and embarrassment released from her body and she realized she was dreadfully tired. It had been such a long and difficult day. She had literally been to Hell and back. But, when she glanced at the bed she was met by an unwelcome image of Crowley amidst a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs. Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the image. That was the last thing she needed to be thinking about as she crawled into bed to get some sleep.

Laying back on the pillow, she tried to clear her mind and let herself drift off, but it was no use. Her brain would not shut off, and no matter what she thought it always came back to Crowley. Demons didn't need to eat or sleep, but it had never occurred to her that they may have other… needs. Desires. In fact, despite their long talks back in the study, Jenna realized there was a lot that she didn't know.

Right now though, there was one single, determined train of thought that would not let her sleep no matter how hard she tried to push it from her head. It had not occurred to her until now, and now she couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop wondering. Was it with other demons? In their meat suits or in their true form? How did it work? Were they like humans in that respect? It's not like she could just ask him.

 _I need a God damn discovery channel for the supernatural,_ she thought to herself.

What felt like hours passed. Jenna rolled over and looked for a clock that wasn't there. At least she wouldn't have to spend the night counting the hours that she lay awake. Frustrated, she lifted her head and dropped it heavily on the pillow. Two seconds later she was aggressively rearranging it. It was no use. She threw the covers off and got up.

Unable to sleep, Jenna wandered out to the throne room where Crowley was sitting alone, sifting through a pile of paperwork. "Red, what can I do for you?" Crowley asked as he looked up, surprised to see her.

"Nothing. I just couldn't sleep," Jenna replied.

Crowley tilted his head to the side, his lips forming a thin line. "Come sit," he said gesturing to a spot next to his throne. "I have just the thing for that."

Jenna eyed the demon wearily, but deep down, she didn't fear him. Not once had he given her reason to. Well, he had abducted her, but not once had he hurt her. Not once had he threatened her. And when she looked at him, when she really looked at him, what she saw didn't frighten her like other demons did. If anything, she felt a sense of security in his presence.

Accepting his offer, Jenna approached the throne. She sat with her feet resting on the top step and leaned her weight on her knees. Crowley picked up the next paper from the stack, a quarterly report on soul counts, cleared his throat and began to read. It wasn't long before Jenna could no longer follow what he was saying. It had never occurred to her either that being King could be so terribly dull and tedious. Eventually the words themselves faded and all she could hear was the rhythmic sound of Crowley's voice and his gravelly British accent. Her eyelids started to become heavy and she leaned back against the throne before sleep swallowed her.


	13. It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-18

After hitching a ride with a reaper to Hell, Jenna had incited a riot to get Crowley's attention. Reunited, they returned to Crowley's Lair at the Needham Asylum near Fall River, Massachusetts. It had been agreed that in the morning they would resume her lessons as she trained to defeat Malphas, the Prince of Hell, so that Crowley could secure his throne and she could reclaim her soul.

The last thing Jenna remembered from the night before was sitting by Crowley's throne, listening to him read a report about soul counts. It had been dreadfully dry and boring, and eventually as the demon had promised, it had put her to sleep. When Jenna woke she found herself not on the throne room floor, but in bed surrounded by soft sheets and pillows. Pulling the blanket up under her chin, she nuzzled into it and enjoyed the warmth and comfort.

Only briefly did she entertain the question of how she had got there. The thought of Crowley carrying her to bed and tucking her in seemed so out of place, yet how else could she have ended up there. A smile spread across her face and she was filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets covering her.

A half hour passed before Jenna decided to leave the comfort of her bed. Stretching her legs she got up. There was an antique wardrobe across from the bed. The wood was stressed and full of character. Jenna did not recall seeing it when Crowley had given her the tour. Curiously, she walked over and opened the doors. A smile spread across her face as she found it full, just like the closet in the mansion had been. Picking out a pair of khaki pants and a loose white blouse with short sleeves, Jenna got dressed.

After being served breakfast in Crowley's private quarters by his butler, Jenna wandered out to the throne room in search of the King of Hell. Unsurprisingly, she found him sitting at his throne, speaking with one of his demons. The lines in his face were drawn in anger. Not wanting to interrupt, Jenna stood back and waited. "Just get it done," she overheard him shout.

The demon backed away, nodding and bowing in gratitude and fear. "Yes. Of course, Your Majesty."

The demon turned, and rushed hurriedly from the throne room, and Crowley's attention fell instead on Jenna. The anger drained from his face, as he stood and cocked his head to the side offering her that always charming smile. "Ah, Red!" he called cheerfully. "Ready to get started?"

Jenna nodded enthusiastically. It wasn't just that she was eager to practice her skill. It wasn't just that she knew her soul and humanity depended upon her learning how to destroy Malphas. Selfishly, she enjoyed Crowley's company. For once, someone wasn't just walking past her on the street and pretending that she didn't exist. Even if he only cared because he needed her, in his own way he still believed in her.

"Come with me," Crowley instructed. Inside, it felt like her stomach was doing somersaults as Jenna fell inline next to him. Together, the two of them headed towards the kennels. They walked past the seemingly empty cages that Jenna knew housed Crowley's hell hounds. Occasionally she'd hear the odd snarl or the whumph of their massive paws as the beasts paced. If she looked close enough, she could just make out their twisted, black souls.

At the end of the row, Crowley stopped. Looking down into the kennel, Jenna found not an invisible beast, but a tiny housecat: mostly black with white paws and a perfectly round white circle covering his left eye. The cat rubbed affectionately against the bars in a bid for attention. "What is this?" Jenna asked. She faced Crowley and turned her palms up as she waited for an explanation.

"It's a cat," Crowley answered simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I can see that it's a cat," Jenna replied, rolling her eyes at the demon as she shook her head. "But why? Where did he come from?"

"I picked it up from a shelter," Crowley informed her evenly. "It's time you practiced on something  _living_."

Those words were like a punch to the gut as Jenna realized the demon's intentions. She staggered backwards a couple of steps. "You want me to…" she stammered, unable to even finish the sentence. As she continued to back away she combed her hands through her straight, red hair that she had pulled into a loose ponytail. This she couldn't do.

Crowley took a step towards her. "Yes," he told her as if it were nothing at all. As if it were perfectly reasonable, and sane, and okay.

"No," Jenna replied vehemently, as she held out her hand to hold the demon at bay. "Absolutely not. I am  _not_  going to kill that cat."

Crowley seemed to read her body language and stopped. Instead he shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. "You're not so much killing it as you're making it cease to exist," he reasoned.

"No," Jenna repeated, staring at him with a horrified look on her face. This was not what she had signed up for. She was supposed to be killing Malphas, not innocent, sweet little creatures like the one locked behind those bars.

Crowley kept his distance and cracked his neck. His frustration and impatience were not concealed from her. Indeed they were clear as day. "It was scheduled to be euthanized anyways," he told her, his voice strained.

As if that made any difference. It was still a cat. It was still a living, breathing creature that had done no wrong. "No," Jenna repeated adamantly.

Jenna, bound by her humanity, dug in her heels and refused. The King of Hell was not used to hearing no, and even less accustomed to allowing anyone to get away with it. But here he was staring at this  _human_ , locked in a battle of wills. The two of them stood there a long while in checkmate before Crowley sighed in exasperation. "Fine, I'll take it back," he relented.

"You said they were going to euthanize him," Jenna protested the pitch of her voice raising half an octave. She took a step towards the demon and almost reached out to grab his forearm.

Crowley sighed and shook his head in frustration. "We're not running an animal rescue here, Red," he reminded her.

Somehow, letting Crowley take the cat back to the shelter where it would be euthanized felt as wrong as killing it herself. "Please Crowley, you can't take him back," Jenna pleaded.

Crowley shook his head and exhaled heavily. "Fine. Keep the bloody cat," he half-shouted. Jenna mouthed a silent  _thank you_  resisting the urge to throw her arms around the demon's neck. Crowley huffed. "I'll be right back," he informed her. Jenna opened her mouth to speak, but the demon was already gone. She found herself staring at the empty space he had occupied just a moment before.

Jenna knelt down in front of the kennel where the little black and white cat was still bidding for her attention. As she reached through the bars and scratched him behind the ears, the cat purred and pressed himself into her hand. "Hi there," Jenna whispered. "What shall we call you? How about Spot?" The cat only mewed in response, and continued to rub affectionately against her hand. Such a simple little thing, but it made her smile. Growing up she'd never had a pet, and as an adult, her living arrangement had not been terribly conducive. Sure, plenty of homeless people kept dogs, but Jenna had always felt guilt and fear that she would be unable to care for an animal properly being on the streets.

Behind her, Crowley cleared his throat. The noise startled Jenna, causing her to jump. She had not been expecting him to return so soon. When she turned around to face him, she saw that he was not alone. Crowley had a middled aged man, perhaps in his late forties, held firmly in his grasp. The man, who had curly, light brown hair and eyes to match, was trembling and snivelling. What she saw in his eyes was utter terror. "Please," the man begged, snot dripping from his pointed nose. "Please, don't hurt me."

Jenna's mouth gaped open as she shook her head at the demon her nose wrinkled in disgust. "This is supposed to be better?" She asked, horrified.

"Trust me, love. It is," Crowley told her as he shoved the man forward. "This man, he's…"

"Crowley!" Jenna cut him off, earning a clenched jaw and pointed glare from the demon. "I'm not going to..."

Crowley didn't let her finish. "Come here!" he commanded sternly. Jenna snapped her mouth shut, swallowed, and did as she was told, all the while admonishing herself for obeying him. Crowley held a contract on her soul, but he didn't own her will. She wouldn't be do it. She wouldn't kill him.

The man whimpered and cowered from the demon. Despite the fact that he would be taller than Jenna if he stood straight, hunched over like an abused dog he looked small and pathetic. With one hand, Crowley gripped the man painfully by the back of his neck, bringing him to his knees. With the other he reached out and placed his palm gently against the side of Jenna's face. His skin was so warm.

Suddenly out of nowhere Jenna's senses were slammed. It was overwhelming and it took a moment for her to sort out what was happening. She was somewhere else, but she hadn't been teleported. No, she was someone else. She was seeing things through the man's eyes. Everything she was experiencing, it was his memory.

_He was in a playground. The sun was warm in the sky. He could smell the fresh cut grass drying in the summer heat._ _He watched as a mother took her four year old daughter to the rest rooms. Her older brother, maybe six or seven was playing on the swings._ _The man walked by. On the end of a leash he had a golden retriever puppy. It couldn't have been much more than eight weeks old._

_The little boy ran over his eyes wide and his grin stretching across his innocent little face._ _"Can I pet him?" the boy asked._

_"Sure," the man replied, crouching down to the boy's height. "His name is Zeus."_

_The little boy beamed "Hi Zeus!"_

_The man glanced around, looking for the little boys mother, but she was still out of sight. His heart thumped anxiously in his chest as he licked his lips._ _"I have his sister in the back of my truck. I bet she's lonely" he told the little boy, "would you like to go see her?"_ _The boy nodded enthusiastically. The man held out his hand and the boy took it. The child's hand was so small inside of his._

_They reached the truck, which was parked out of sight behind some trees. There was no puppy in the back. Instead there was a roll of duct tape._ _The man's heart pumped faster, sending blood rushing through his ears. It wasn't anxiety he felt, but anticipation. Seizing the boy, he used the duct tape to gag him and bind his tiny little arms and legs._ _In the background he could hear the boy's mother calling for him as he forced him into the truck._

_The man smiled to himself and began to drive away. Every now and then he'd glance over at the boy, who had tears streaming down his face._ _They drove a long way, far from the city, to a little cabin in the woods. Every mile that passed, the man's excitement grew until he was nearly bursting._

Jenna collapsed to her knees once she was released from the vision. Her body trembled. The things she had watched the man inflict upon the terrified little boy. The things she had felt through his memories. They were horrific. Unimaginable. He had abused that poor child for days before he finally killed him and dumped his body down an abandoned mine shaft. And he had enjoyed every minute of it.

Crowley stood over her, watching her. Waiting. Jenna looked up, tears streaming down her face. This man, this sorry excuse for a human being, he deserved so much worse than what Crowley was asking her to do. She nodded. She would do it.

"You should consider yourself lucky," Crowley hissed in the man's ear as he dragged him to his dungeon and chained him in place. "If it weren't for her, your soul would be mine for all eternity." Instead he would simply cease to exist.

The man whimpered and begged as Jenna approached him. A cold sweat had broken out across his pale skin. "Don't you dare beg. Don't you dare think that I will show you mercy after what you did to that little boy," Jenna told him, tears still filling her eyes. The man tugged frantically at his chains, the steel biting into his flesh. His voice became shrill as he pleaded for his life.

"Take your time, Red," Crowley spoke softly over her shoulder, and she was grateful for his presence. She'd never killed anyone before.

Jenna reached out and placed her hand over the man's chest. Under her fingers she could see his soul. It looked, at first glance, like a bright ball of light, but as she focused she could see all the strands of energy that wove together to form it. Slowly, meticulously she worked at them, pulling his soul apart strand by strand while the man screamed and fought desperately against his chains until his wrists bled. Jenna tuned out the noise. That man, he wasn't human. Not really. He was a monster. And she would erase him from existence.

* * *

Back in Heaven they were getting closer to pinpointing Malphas' location. Ingrid had noticed a pattern. An anomaly in the mass of demonic sign spreading across the country. It was subtle. It would have been easy to miss amongst the glaringly obvious sign that plagued the country.

She had called the seraph Jehoel who spoke directly with Joshua, and all of the other angels working on the case together so she could share her discovery. Castiel had insisted that Hannah and her team join them too. Maybe if she saw how close they were she would set aside the search for The Thing That Should Not Be and help them find and stop Malphas.

"This had better be good," one of the angels that came with Jehoel said snottily.

Ingrid ignored her, and brought a map up on the projector. It was covered with notes and pinned locations. They were color coded, with red being the oldest, and green being the most recent. Orange and yellow were accordingly in between.

"If you look, at the areas where the demonic sign is present," Ingrid explained, gesturing to her map. "You will see a clear progression in each area. In the red we see diffuse sign and over time it narrows down to a particular target in green. Here, and here, and here," she pointed to example after example. "But not here," she pointed to Chicago. There was a wide dispersal of demonic sign in the red and orange, but then nothing.

"You believe that Malphas is in Chicago?" Castiel asked.

Ingrid nodded, her almost-black hair framing her face. "I do. Why else would the demons have gone dark there?," she asked. " It's not as if they are being careful to cover their tracks anywhere else."

"But why…" Castiel stopped and looked around the room at the other angels. Did they feel it too? It began as a vibration, barely above a hum. As it intensified, the other angel's anxious glances told him it wasn't just him.

"What is…" Ingrid wasn't able to finish her sentence. There was a loud crack and Heaven shook violently as if an earthquake was rippling through. The angels ducked and took cover wherever they could. Eventually the shaking stopped and they picked themselves up from the ground and dusted themselves off.

"What was that?" Ingrid asked, leaning against the back of a chair for support as everything settled.

"That," Hannah replied, crawling out from under a nearby desk"was The Thing That Should Not Be."

Castiel closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He had made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. His voice was filled with pain and regret as he turned to the other angels. "It begins," he told them. The end of all creation.

* * *

That night Jenna had paced through the hallways of Crowley's Lair, and the King of Hell had kept a close watch on her out of the corner of his eye. She had performed beautifully, and he had been so proud of her, but he knew that her human sensibilities didn't make what she had done easy on her.

Every time she yawned, every time her eyes felt too heavy to open she would suddenly lunge forward, as if someone had hit the fast-forward button, in a frantic attempt to stay awake. Eventually she had sunk to the floor, too tired to even stand. Crowley had found her, piled in a heap, and had picked her up and carried her once more to bed.

Before he could turn to leave, Jenna stirred and reached out, grabbing his hand. Her own was so much smaller than his, so much weaker. "Will you stay with me, just for a little while?" She asked, sleepily. Crowley tensed and reached out to pry himself free from her grip. "Please." Her pale eyes stared up at him. They were such an incredible glacial blue.

Crowley sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress sunk under his weight. Squirrel was right, he was going soft. Here was this woman, she needed him and he shouldn't care, but some strange and unfamiliar feeling tugged inside his chest and wouldn't let him leave.

For a long while the two of them stayed there like that in silence. "I killed someone," Jenna said finally, hesitantly as if she were trying the words on for size.

"Not exactly," Crowley corrected, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. "You made him cease to exist."

Jenna rolled onto her side and sighed. "Still he was alive. Now he's not, because of me," she reasoned "Shouldn't I feel something? Anything?" She asked, those incredible eyes staring up at him for what? For answers? For reassureance? Surely he wasn't the one to seek out as a moral compass. There was nothing he could say to her.

 _How very human_ , Crowley thought as he looked down at her curled up in the bed, her knees tucked up towards her chest. When her soul was his, he could free her of her humanity. He could take away all her doubt and inhibitions. Her pain and her guilt. Her weakness. He could make her like him.

 _Except you aren't free of your humanity anymore, are you? Not completely,_ he thought. _Not thanks to a certain Moose._ Things were so complicated now. Feelings were muddy. Feelings were weak. Yet other times Crowley just wanted so desperately to feel something. To feel anything. It's why he had become addicted to human blood after the botched demon curing. And now this woman, she made him feel  _something_ too.

"When you showed me what that man did, when I watched through his eyes... he felt nothing," Jenna explained, her small hands fidgeting with the corner of the blanket. "No guilt. No remorse."

"Not all monsters have fangs or claws, Red. Some monsters are human," Crowley told her. "Sometimes the thing that goes bump in the night is just a man."  _Or a demon. Or a King._

"What if I'm just like him?" Jenna asked turning her head away so she didn't have to look Crowley in the eyes. A gesture he would have found laughable if it weren't for the fact that he actually felt bad for the woman. "When I killed him, I felt nothing," Jenna admitted. "What if I'm a monster too?"

Crowley reached down and gently turned her face back towards him. She didn't need to hide, not from him. "Hush," he told her, placing a finger to her lips which parted slightly at his touch. "You're nothing like him."  _You're nothing like me,_  he added silently to himself. There were things where Crowley drew the line, and what that man had done was one of them. Still, it wasn't as if Crowley's soul was clean. There were miles of blood and suffering upon his hands. He had done things, terrible things, and he had revelled in every minute of it.

"But…" Jenna protested sleepily.

Crowley shook his head. "Go to sleep, Red." He trailed his fingers down the side of her face and she leaned into his hand. Her trust, he didn't deserve it. Still, he stayed there with her like that until she drifted off. All the while he kept asking himself what this human was doing to him.

* * *

_Jenna was in a long hallway. Bright fluorescent lights illuminated the space with an impersonal, clinical glow._ _It was a hospital she realized. She was in a hospital. Nurses bustled back and forth, moving patients on rolling stretchers._ _Jenna wove through the busy hall. There was a surgery room at the end of the hall. For some reason she felt strangely drawn to it._

_There was a doctor, no, a surgeon. He was dressed in green scrubs. He meticulously washed his hands and scrubbed his arms before pulling on a pair of sterile gloves and entering the room. Jenna followed._ _On the operating table was a little girl. She was only five, but she had a life-threatening brain tumor. The surgery would be risky, but without it, she would die._

_Jenna watched as the surgeon worked. Jenna watched his steady hands in awe as he removed the tumor. As he saved the little girl's life._ _Afterwards she followed him into the waiting room where he was met by the little girl's parents. He told them that the surgery had been a success and the mother fell to her knees, crying tears of joy while the father shook the surgeon's hand and thanked him profusely._

Jenna woke with a start. She looked around for Crowley, but he was gone. Her dream, so vivid, was still playing in her mind. Deep down she knew: that surgeon was the same little boy that had been abused and murdered. A tear rolled down her cheek as she mourned who he could have been, and the lives he could have saved.


	14. Master of Creation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revamped 2017-09-18

The days turned into weeks as Jenna stayed with Crowley at his lair near Fall River, Massachusetts. As each day passed, Crowley continued to bring her subjects on which to practice her skill. At first Jenna would ask him to show her what they had done, and Crowley would oblige, watching as the horrors that one human could inflict upon another, would bring her to her knees. Then he would watch, with look that could only be described as pride, as she harnessed all that hurt and anger and removed the subject from existence without so much as a hesitation.

Eventually Jenna stopped asking Crowley to show her. She understood that the subjects he brought her were the scum of the earth. Rapists, child abusers, human traffickers. They had developed an unspoken agreement if she was to do this and she trusted him. She didn't need to witness first hand the harm that they inflicted. Because, while she could remain cold to the fact that she was removing them from existence, seeing what they did tore painfully at her heart in a way she could not bear.

Every day she was getting stronger. Every day it was getting easier, requiring less focus, using less energy as she disentangled these people's souls and removed them from existence. And every night was getting harder as Jenna was haunted by the vivid dreams of who their victims could have been. Some turned out bad, but most, most went on to do good or live normal lives. It broke her heart to see the future that had been taken from them.

"I can't keep practicing with humans," Jenna informed Crowley as she stared at the empty chains where her latest practice subject had been moments before. Erased from existence. "This is too easy. It isn't going to help me defeat Malphas. He's a Prince of Hell. I've seen what he can do."

"You're right, Red," Crowley agreed from where he stood off to the side of the dungeon observing her. "What do you say we up the ante?"

Jenna smiled. For the first time, she really felt like she might stand a chance. She still had a long way to go, but defeating Malphas no longer felt like a task that was infinitely beyond her reach. Maybe, just maybe she would get to keep her soul after all.

Crowley took a step towards her. "When you face Malphas, he won't be chained," he told her. "He won't be helpless."

"I know," Jenna answered softly.

"You need to be able to defend yourself," Crowley explained. He tilted his head and watched to make sure she understood what he was saying.

Jenna took a step towards him. "So teach me," she beseeched him.

"You could get hurt," Crowley warned, his voice low.

It seemed almost comical to worry about that when she would be facing off against the Prince of Hell soon enough. "Or I could go in unprepared and fail," she reminded him. "I could die, lose my soul. I could let Malphas destroy humanity." The alternatives were all so much worse. She'd take her chances.

Crowley nodded and took her to an empty room within his lair. They started slow, with Crowley holding her with his telekinetic powers and Jenna learning how to grab the energy and free herself. Gradually they worked up to telekinetic attacks. Crowley would send out a wave of power to knock Jenna back or strike her down, and she would dodge or block each one. Once in awhile, she would misjudge and get sent flying backwards. But each time she would get back up, dust herself off and ask Crowley to start again. Soon enough the attacks were coming harder and faster, and she was keeping up.

Crowley sent a powerful telekinetic attack to knock Jenna backwards. This time she didn't just dodge or block it. She intercepted it and held the energy like she had back at the mansion when Malphas had tried to kill Crowley. This time it did not overwhelm her. She remained in control, letting the energy wash over her and channel back to her hands. She focused it back at Crowley, and released it.

The demon went flying backwards and slammed into the wall, where he slid and crumpled into a pile on the floor. "Crowley!" Jenna cried out, rushing across the room and falling to her knees at his side. She reached down, cupping the side of his face in her small hands, she turned him towards her. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Crowley offered her an amused grin and let out a noise that was half cough, half laugh. "You'll have to try harder than that if you want to hurt me, love." Jenna let out a sigh of relief but she noticed that the demon winced as he stood.

That night, as every night since she had first removed that man from existence, Jenna was visited by a hyper-realistic, lucid dream.

_She was walking beside a blonde haired, blue eyed woman in her early twenties._

Jenna knew this woman was someone whose life was affected by the man she had erased earlier that day. This was the story of who she could have been.

_It was with a heavy heart that Jenna followed in her footsteps. Together they walked down a busy street in a city Jenna didn't recognize. They walked down some stairs and stood waiting at a subway station. Looking up, she saw a sign that said they were at 42nd St. Station._

_The blonde woman shifted her weight nervously. Jenna looked around. It must be summer. Everyone was wearing short sleeves, cut-off pants, and light floral dresses. Everyone except for the blonde woman. Jenna found it curious that she was wearing a jacket._ _Silently she followed as the woman got onto the next subway train. The train was so full, the woman had to stand. Jenna stood next to her and looked around. A little girl with curly locks of brown hair was smiling animatedly as she played with her stuffed bear._

_"Oh my god, she has a bomb!" A man screamed. Jenna turned just in time to see the blonde woman with her finger on the trigger. Then everything was torn apart._

Jenna woke up in a cold sweat and glanced frantically around. It took a moment for the darkened room to come into focus. Heaving a sigh of relief, she sank bank into her pillow and tried to calm her racing heart. These dreams, they had to stop.

* * *

All of the angels had felt it: the shockwave that rippled through Heaven. It had been the first of many. As the days passed, the shockwaves were becoming more frequent, more intense. The Thing That Should Not Be was tearing at the very fabric of creation.

Castiel had gone back to the hospital where he had last seen the woman while she laid helpless in a coma. It was a desperate attempt to fix the mistake he had made by leaving her alive. Of course, she wasn't there. Not that he had really expected her to be. Not with what was going on.

The angel tracked her to her parent's home. Using the skills he had picked up hunting with Sam and Dean he had approached Kenneth and Anne James posing as a police officer. Though his routine was awkward, they bought it. However, they were unable to provide him with a location for their daughter. She had left in tears, speaking non-sense, they told him. Fearing for her well-being they had gone out searching for her, but none of her acquaintances on the street had seen her.

Due to the Enochian sigils that he had burned into her ribs, Castiel was running out of options. All he knew was that somehow he had to find her. He had to set things right. The angel took out his cellphone and dialed a number from his contacts list. It went to voicemail. "This is Dean's other, other phone. You know what to do," the recording played on the other end.

Castiel stared at the phone, waiting for the beep to let him know it was time to leave his message. "Hi Dean. This is me, leaving you a voicemail. It is about the… woman. It's important. Please call me back," Castiel said, staring at the phone for a moment more before he ended the call.

Ever since the first shockwave all of the angels had been pulled off the search for Malphas to focus on trying to stop The Thing That Should Not Be before she tore creation apart, and it wasn't enough. Perhaps Dean could help. Whether or not he would be willing to, was another matter entirely. Somehow, Castiel would have to impress upon him how dire the situation was.

Malphas would have to wait. That or Earth would just have to deal with the Prince of Hell's plans for domination on their own. Unless… Castiel pulled out his phone and hit redial, leaving Dean a second message.

* * *

Back at the Men of Letters' bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, Dean finished listening to the messages on his cellphone and placed it on the table in front of him. There were lines of worry etched into his face. "There was a message from Cas. He says he needs to talk to us about the woman. He says it's important," he told his brother.

"So call him," Sam replied.

"I did. He's not answering," Dean told him. The lines on his face grew deeper. "He also said that if we're looking for Malphas, we should try Chicago."

"Chicago?" Sam repeated, stealing a glance at their strategy map where they had plotted all of the demonic sign to date. His eyebrows furrowed. "But we looked there. There hasn't been any new sign in weeks."

"I don't know. That's what he said," Dean said with a shrug.

"Okay, I'll see what I can find," Sam offered. His brows scrunched together as he busied himself in his notes. For the next hour Sam had his nose buried in his laptop, maps, and news articles. Every now and then he'd give a little grunt, or roll his bottom lip between his teeth as he was deep in thought.

"Huh..." Sam exhaled and shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. "Hey Dean, get over here!"

Dean looked up from across the room. He was busy cleaning guns and maintaining their arsenal of supernatural killing weapons. They had a lead on Malphas, and if it went anywhere they were going to need to be ready. "Did you find something?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah, Dean. I think I did," Sam said with a modicum of confidence that was just enough to make Dean think that maybe he was really onto something. Dean made his way back to the strategy table, and came around to where Sam was sitting. He stood behind his brother, looking down to see what he had found. All he saw was old sign spread across a large area on the outskirts of Chicago. "It's not what's there," Sam told him. "It's what's not."

Dean shot his brother a confused look. "Yeah… You're going to have to explain that one, Sammy," he told him.

"Look," Sam said, gesturing to the map excitedly. "Everywhere else we can see the demonic sign narrowing down over time to a specific target. Right?" Dean nodded. "But not here," Sam pointed to an area near Chicago. "The sign is just sort of there, then it's not. There's no power plants, no military bases, no anything really, in that area."

"So if there's no potential targets in that area, what are we looking at?" Dean asked.

Sam pressed his lips together then exhaled through his nose. "Just old abandoned industrial buildings and warehouses, as far as I can tell."

Dean's head bobbed up and down, a thoughtful expression on his face. "So let me get this right. Malphas makes no effort to disguise the fact that he's taking high-profile targets, but he tries to cover his tracks where there's nothing but old abandoned buildings in a 20 mile radius."

"Something like that," Sam agreed, raising his eyebrows and giving an affirmative tilt of his head.

There was only one plausible explanation. Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Good work, Sammy. Now let's see if we can figure out which building the sonuvabitch is hiding in."

* * *

Once Crowley was confident that Jenna could defend herself from a demon, he had asked her to join him in his throne room while he held court on matters pertaining to Hell. There were several Malphas supporters who had been captured. At first Crowley had planned to execute them, publicly, as he usually did. It helped maintain a healthy dose of fear amongst his subjects. Then he had a better idea. Why not let the woman practice her skills on them. While they weren't the Prince of Hell, they were demons, and would provide her with a bit more of a challenge.

Crowley sat at his throne, looking pleased as he watched Jenna practice against the first of the traitorous demons. Currently she had him tangled up in his own telekinetic energies while she worked on pulling apart his soul. Crowley's own minions watched and saw the power the woman possessed. It was good, Crowley thought, that they could see what she was capable of and know that she worked for their King. One more thing to help keep them in line, because who would want to defect to Malphas's side when their utter existence could be undone.

At his feet, Spot, the black and white cat that Jenna had acquired much to Crowley's displeasure, wove himself through the King's feet. The tiny creature did figure eights, rubbing himself against Crowley's ankles and leaving a trail of fur on his pant leg. The demon twitched, resisting the urge to kick the small animal away. "Why don't you go pester someone else," he hissed, his voice low enough that Jenna would not overhear. "I don't even like cats. If it was up to me, I'd feed you to the hell hounds."

There was a collective murmuring among his subjects, and Crowley returned his attention from the cat to Jenna. The demon she had been practicing was gone as if he had never existed at all. "Well done, Red," Crowley congratulated her. Jenna turned to face him, a triumphant smile on her face.

In his pocket, Crowley's phone buzzed. He gestured for his demons to bring the woman another traitor before fishing it out. The call display read  _Not Moose._  Pondering for a moment whether he should actually answer it, he finally pressed accept call. "Hello, Squirrel. Long time no chat," Crowley said cheerfully into the phone.

"Shut up, Crowley. I didn't call to make small talk," Dean growled on the other end of the line. "Look, we know you have the woman. Again."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Crowley lied as he leaned back and placed his free hand behind his head. His eyes remained glued to the woman as she worked.

"Crowley, I don't have time for this!" Dean snapped.

"What's with all the hostility? You should really consider going for a massage," Crowley replied in his calmest, most infuriatingly pleasant voice. "Get rid of some of that tension. It's no good for you."

"Crowley!" Dean growled, his anger palpable even over the phone as it boiled over.

Crowley rolled his eyes and let a self-satisfied smile play across his lips for a moment, relishing the frustration he was causing. Then he heard Sam's muffled voice in the background. "Just tell him about the lead we have on Malphas."

A lead on Malphas. Now that was interesting. "Look Squirrel, it's been nice, but put Moose on the line," Crowley said, his voice gaining a more serious edge to it. He could hear Dean grumbling on the other end before he reluctantly hit the speakerphone button. "Hello Moose," Crowley chimed happily into the phone, knowing full well the younger Winchester would be anything but pleased to hear his voice. "Do tell. What lead on Malphas?" There was silence on the other end. Crowley sighed. "Look boys, do you want my help or not?"

There was a pause, followed by a distant "Yes," that Sam forced through clenched teeth.

"Do you have the woman or not?" Dean demanded gruffly.

Crowley glanced back at Jenna who was working masterfully on the second traitor's soul. The demon writhed as she worked her invisible magic. "Yes," Crowley admitted. If the Hardy Boys had a lead on Malphas, then they were united against a common enemy, for now.

"How is she doing?" Sam asked.

"She's splendid," Crowley replied snarkily.

"What my brother meant was, is she ready?" Dean clarified unnecessarily.

Crowley watched Jenna, his head tilted to the side. She made it appear effortless, graceful even, as she erased the demon from existence. "Yes," Crowley answered with certainty. "She's ready."


	15. A Consequence For Every Action

Crowley and Jenna walked through the parking lot toward the abandoned industrial building where they were to meet Sam and Dean. It was time. Malphas was here, and it was time to put a stop to his plans for domination, to put a stop to his plans to rule over Heaven, Hell and Earth.

"What happens when this is all over?" Jenna asked.

Crowley's face twitched. When this had started all that had mattered was that she was a weapon with which he could destroy his enemies. Though he was loathe to admit it, he had grown to enjoy her company. Once this was over, she would be free from her contract. She would have no reason to stay.

"I go back to ruling Hell, humanity keeps on ticking as if nothing happened, and you get to keep your soul," Crowley told her. "Everyone wins."

Jenna frowned. That should make her happy, and it did. But… "Will I ever see you again?" She asked.

Crowley's step faltered and he turned to face her. She looked up at him with her blue eyes. This human, he shouldn't care. He was getting what he wanted from her. He should just leave it at that.

_Damn you, Moose._

"I brought you something," Crowley told her. "A gift, if you will. I was going to wait until you destroyed Malphas, but why bother."

Jenna's brows drew in and she tilted her head curiously to the side. A gift from the King of Hell. That was… unexpected.

"Thanks to the Enochian sigils that blasted angel burned into your ribs, I can not locate you," Crowley explained.

Unconsciously Jenna brought up a hand and rubbed at her side.

Crowley pulled out a bronze chain with an ancient looking pendant on the end. "Keep this with you, and if ever you need me, I will be able to find you," he told her. "All you have to do is ask."

Jenna took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Thank you," she breathed, barely above a whisper. She turned around, pulled her hair out of the way and glanced over her shoulder, waiting.

Crowley reached around, placing the chain around her neck. His fingers brushed her skin sending goosebumps across her flesh.

Once he fastened the chain, Jenna dropped her hair and turned back to face him. The demon's eyes looked her up and down. Half of him had expected her not to accept it, that once she was free of him that she would never want to be found again.

"Red," he breathed.

And she looked up and met his gaze. He reached out, brushing his knuckles gently across her cheek. In response her lips parted and she inhaled sharply. He leaned in...

Suddenly Dean's voice sliced through the silence. "Sorry to interrupt…" he glanced around, a confused look on his face. "What the hell is this anyways?" The intimacy of their posture was not lost on the hunter.

"None of your damn business, that's what," Crowley retorted. The King of Hell kept a smile on his face, but his words were laced with venom.

Dean glared at the demon and shot a warning glance at Jenna. This was Crowley. Whatever was going on, whatever he had witnessed between them, she needed to be careful.

"Come on guys," Sam urged, always the diplomat. "We're supposed to be on the same side here."

"The only side Crowley's on is his own," Dean grumbled. "You know damn well that once this is over he'll stab us in the back first opportunity he gets."

"Your brother's got a point there, Moose," Crowley agreed. He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly at the younger brother.

"Yeah, well, it's not over yet," Sam reminded him sharply. "So we still need each other."

The two brothers turned their attention to the woman. When they had first met her she had been dirty and dishevelled, fresh off the streets. She had been fearful and confused. The next time they saw her she had been lying in a coma in a hospital bed, looking so tiny and so fragile. But now…

Sam stared at her, his jaw hanging slightly agape. She was almost unrecognizable. Her red hair framed her pale freckled face. Though her features were delicate, the way she carried herself was strong and self-assured. Her smile easy and confident.

"Jenna, wow," Dean exclaimed. "You look great."

Crowley stepped beside Jenna, shoving his hands in his overcoat pockets he shot the older brother a withering look. Dean glared back.

"Hi Sam. Hi Dean," Jenna said, offering the brothers a friendly smile.

"Hi Jenna," Sam said nodding his head in her direction. Then his brows drew together. "You ready for this?"

"I am," Jenna answered confidently.

"Cas should be meeting us here, any minute now," Dean informed them.

"Cas?" Jenna repeated.

Crowley placed a large warm hand on her shoulder, leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Castiel. Deany boy's pet angel."

"I can still hear you, you know," Dean informed him. His tone was unimpressed.

Crowley responded with a loathful smirk, but before the two could continue with their bickering there was a fluttering of wings and suddenly five angels stood between them and the building where Malphas was hiding.

"Cas what is this?" Dean asked. His tone was accusatory as he sought an explanation from his friend. "I thought I told you to come alone."

"I'm sorry Dean," the angel replied, a pained expression on his face. Part of him felt like he had betrayed the Winchesters' trust, but part of him knew that he was doing what must be done. What he should have done from the start. "She must be stopped."

Before Castiel had time to explain further, Hannah stepped forward. Channeling her power she attempted to smite the red-headed woman.

"No!" Dean shouted jumping forward. But it was too late. Or not. The woman simply lifted a hand and stood there, unharmed.

Crowley raised his chin ever so slightly and watched with a sense of curiosity and pride. She was much stronger than he had initially thought.

"I am exactly what you say I am," Jenna told them, still holding off Hannah's smiting effortlessly. "I am The Thing That Should Not Be and you will not hurt me."

Dean stared in wonder. The woman radiated energy to the point where she almost glowed. For someone so small, she stood so tall and confidently. In that moment, she looked like a goddess, ready to take on the world and win.

Jenna looked at her hands, then raised her eyes to Hannah. Turning her palms to face the angel, she sent her flying backwards. Hannah slammed into the side of the building and fell to the ground.

The other angels looked at each other in fear and disarray. "She'll be fine," Jenna told them, but that wasn't what they were worried about. Hannah was already getting to her feet once more.

Castiel felt it too: the crushing of their confidence and expectations, the rising hopelessness. Even as a seraph, if she had that sort of power, what chance did he have of stopping her? When she could hold the energy of creation itself. When she could simply erase him from existence.

Jenna turned to Castiel. The brown haired angel wore a tan trench coat. A memory came flooding back to her. Something the nurse had told her when she had woke up from her coma.

"You're the one who came to visit me at the hospital," she said simply.

"I, erm…" Castiel awkwardly searched for an excuse. Though they stood behind him, he could feel the stare of the other angels.

Hannah was dusting herself off from Jenna's retaliation. Castiel turned to face her and saw the hurt and betrayal that was etched deep into her face. "You what?" She asked.

Castiel held his hands up, palms out as he tried to placate the angel. "Hannah, listen to me I can explain."

"No, Castiel," Hannah replied. She was shaking her head slowly. Her eyebrows were drawn and her face was contorted with betrayal. "You can't."

Castiel swallowed and pressed his lips together. Of all the things he had done, this was perhaps the least forgivable. He had doomed all of creation.

Castiel took a step towards the woman. He knew he could not smite her, and she knew it too. Unphased, she stood and watched him.

"Jenna," he pleaded. "You must not destroy Malphas."

"I have to," Jenna insisted. Her soul depended on it. Humanity depended on it.

"Yeah Cas," Dean agreed. "What is this? That's why we're all here. Someone has to stop that sonuvabitch, and she's the best shot we've got."

Castiel ignored his friend and focused instead on the woman. "You've been having dreams," he told her. "Dreams that are very, very real."

For the first time since they arrived there Jenna's confidence wavered. "H- how do you know about that?"

Crowley shot her a questioning glance. She had told him nothing of her dreams. This was news to him.

Castiel held out a hand. "Please," he begged of her. "Let me show you."

Jenna swallowed and reached out, taking the angel's hand. Jenna felt the familiar gut wrenching nausea she associated with teleportation and suddenly they were elsewhere. She brought a hand up to her mouth and her body heaved as she struggled to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged.

When finally she opened her eyes she was met by the impersonal glow of fluorescent lights in a long hallway. At the end was a surgery room.

Jenna's head shot around, and she stared at Castiel, her mouth hanging open. "I've seen this place before," she gasped.

"Come. There is something you need to see," he told her.

The two walked towards the end of the hall. A surgeon stepped through the door, and Jenna's stomach lurched. It was the man from her dream. The little boy that had been murdered by the first man she had erased. This was the future that had been stolen from him.

"What are we doing in my dream?" She asked.

"This isn't a dream," Castiel told her.

Jenna shook her head. "I don't understand."

Castiel took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. "When you… remove someone from existence, there are… consequences," he explained. "You change reality. You're leaving thousands of microscopic tears in the fabric of creation. We can feel the ripples through Heaven. I don't yet know if we can repair the damage you've done already."

"But…" Jenna protested. It was too much. Her knees wobbled beneath her. "This can't…"

Castiel placed his hand on her shoulder and her stomach lurched once more. Jenna fell to the ground and vomited. Wiping her mouth she looked up.

They were on top a pile of rubble. With a sense of dread she looked around and then she found it, what she was hoping not to see: the broken remains of a sign that read "42nd Street Station."

"I didn't know," Jenna cried.

"Malphas is an ancient evil. An evil that has been around nearly as long as mankind," Castiel told her. "You can not remove him from existence. You can not undo his creation. The tear that would leave in reality, it might tear it apart completely. Too much would change. The consequences would be too far reaching. You have to stop. Do you understand?"

Jenna nodded, her eyes on the ground. All of these people… that little girl with her teddy bear… she had caused all of this. She had killed all of them. And she had damaged the fabric of creation.

"Please, take me back," she whimpered. It was too much. It was all too much.

Back at the parking lot of the industrial building, Jenna looked around. There were tears in her pale blue eyes.

"What did you do, Cas?" Dean demanded.

"I only showed her what she needed to see," Castiel replied.

"And what, perchance, was that?" Crowley spat.

The angel glared at the demon. "The truth."

Crowley huffed. Enough of this. The angels couldn't stop her and Malphas was right inside that building.

"Come on, Red. What do you say we finish this."

Jenna held back. Her heart was pounding so fast she felt ill. "I…" she stammered.

"You what?" Crowley snapped, impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Crowley. I can't."

The demon did a double take. "What do you mean you can't?"

Jenna looked into his eyes and for the first time in a long time she saw the flash of red and was reminded of what he truly was, and was reminded of the deal she had made with a demon. She closed her own eyes and swallowed accepting her fate. Her soul or all of creation: there was no choice at all. "I can't," she repeated just above a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and that wraps up the first story arc I had planned out. I'd really love to know what you think. Now would be a great time to give me any suggestions/advice/criticism/pointers so I can take them into account moving on with this story. So please, if you have a moment, leave me a review!


	16. Not Too Late

Everything had been going according to plan, until it wasn't. And when it wasn't everything had managed to fall apart spectacularly. From a goddess who could touch creation, and who could remove one of the greatest evils that ever lived from existence to a murderer who had left tears in the fabric of reality. From the absolute confidence that she could keep her soul and save humanity, to the crushing realization that there was nothing she could do, and her soul would belong to the King of Hell for all of eternity.

 Jenna leaned back on the Impala, letting the warmth of the recently shut off engine soak through the hood and into her skin. She closed her eyes and let out a long, low sigh. How did everything go so wrong?

 “Why the long face?” Dean’s voice broke through her thoughts. The hunter had returned to the car where Jenna and his younger brother were waiting. With him he had a bag full of burgers and fries from the fast food joint where they were parked. “If this is about the fact that Malphas got away, don’t worry. We’ll get that sonuvabitch. We always do. Every evil that threatens to destroy the world, we stop it.” Dean told her as he rummaged through the bag.

 “Dean’s right,” Sam agreed from where he stood, several feet away stretching his legs after the long drive. “I mean, Lucifer, the apocalypse, Abbadon, Metatron, the Darkness… every single time that things seemed lost and hopeless, we’ve figured it out. We find a way. It’s just what we do.”

 “Saving people. Hunting things,” Dean offered in as cheery a voice as he could muster, but his smile was strained. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he hadn't the faintest idea how they would pull it off this time.

 “It’s not that,” Jenna told them with a heavy sigh.

 Sam frowned. “Look, Jenna. Those people, you didn't know. You couldn't have known what was going to happen. You were just doing what you thought was right.”

 God, she had thought they were just dreams. She had thought what she saw was what could have been, not what had become. Besides most of what she had seen was good, or simply mundane. Except the subway bombing. So many people packed like sardines on that train. So many lives lost. The face of that little girl would haunt her for the rest of her life, however long that was going to be.

 “I know,” she replied quietly. “But doing what I thought was right, it got people killed. It almost destroyed creation.”

 “Yeah, but it didn’t. And you saved a lot of people too,” Sam reminded her.

Dean handed his brother some food and came and stood next to Jenna so that they were side by side leaning back against the Impala. He passed her a burger. Jenna shook her head and pushed the burger away. Dean shrugged and took a bite out his own.

 “There’s something else eating at you,” Dean observed after swallowing the food that was in his mouth. It wasn’t just guilt he saw on her face. There were worry lines etched deep into her delicate features.

 It was true, and she felt selfish for even thinking about it after what she had almost done. “Crowley told me that you made a deal with a demon. That you died and went to Hell,” Jenna said, testing the waters.

 Dean shifted his weight, a grimace marring his strong face. The years that had passed, all of the distance he had put between himself and that point in his life and still the scars were deep. Time did little to dull the pain and the memories. Those wounds when poked were still raw.

 Reluctantly he nodded.  “I did it to save my brother, to save Sam,” he explained. Not his proudest moment, but he would have done it again. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Sam.

 “I had died,” Sam added for clarification. “Stabbed in the back trying to stop Azazel.”

 Jenna pressed her lips together into a thin line. “What was it like?”

 “Death?” Sam asked.

 Jenna shook her head and looked at Dean. “No, Hell.”

 True, she had convinced a reaper to take her to Hell as she searched for Crowley. She had seen the endless queue, where souls had been waiting for years, for decades even. Deep down though, she knew there had to be more to it than that. Deep down, she was so very afraid, but she needed to know.

 Dean’s face contorted and he shook his head. There were no words to describe what it had been like, what he had gone through. It wasn't a place he wanted to revisit. It wasn't a time he wanted to think about.

 “Dean, please…”

 “If you want to know what Hell’s like, why don't you ask your boyfriend,” Dean snapped.

 “He’s not…” Jenna blinked, taken aback by the outburst from the older brother.

 “I don't know, it looked like the two of you were getting pretty cozy back there earlier,” he observed harshly.

 “It’s not like that,” Jenna explained, the memory of Crowley’s skin touching hers, his body so close, still fresh in her mind. She could still feel the goosebumps that followed in the wake of his fingertips. “He was using me. He was using me, and I fell for it.”

 At least that's what she told herself. Because it was easier to be angry than admit that maybe she had felt something, that maybe she had hoped that there was something more between them. It was easier to blame Crowley and believe it was all a lie than admit that maybe she had actually cared about him and she had let herself believe that he actually cared about her too. It was easier than to admit, that amongst everything else that was happening, she was hurting because she had lost him.

 It was a subconscious movement she didn’t even realize she was doing as her fingers came up brushed the pendant that still hung around her neck. _If ever you need me,_ Crowley's voice echoed in her head as if he were standing right next to her, _all you have to do is ask._

 Jenna could still feel the sting of Crowley’s departure. When she told him that she couldn’t destroy Malphas, she had watched the muscles in his face tense. She had watched the red flare up in his eyes. And she had waited expecting him to threaten her with her contract and try to coerce her into completing the task, something she knew she could not do no matter how frightened she was. Jenna had waited for him to shout angrily and strike her down. Except he didn’t. For a moment, the demon had stood there, his body twitching with anger. Then without a word he stormed off, leaving her there, not knowing what to think or what would happen next.

 “Jenna, why don't you tell us what’s going on,” Sam suggested.  His voice was so calm, so soft and soothing. It begged her to talk to him. With just the tone of his voice he could assure her that she was safe here. He was gifted that way, she had noticed.

 Jenna took a deep breath looked down at her feet, so she wouldn't have to see the expression on their faces. “I made a deal with Crowley,” she told them.

 “You what?” Dean half-shouted, pulling his weight off the car and turning to face her.

 “I…” Jenna stammered. She raised her eyes for just a moment and could see the red that rose up in Dean’s face. The sudden burst of anger took her by surprise. If she had expected anyone to understand, it would have been him given his past, given that he himself had made a deal with a demon.

 “How long do you have?” Sam asked softly.

 “I don't know,” Jenna answered honestly as she shook her head slowly. “It wasn't a regular demon deal...”

 “What was it then? What could you possibly have made a deal with the King of Hell for?” Dean demanded. “You knew what he was. You could see what he was.”

 “Dean!” Sam admonished his brother. That wasn't what the woman needed right now. He wasn't helping things.

 It was true. Jenna could see. She had stared straight into Crowley's soul, she had seen what he was, she had seen that he was a demon. But she had seen something else too. It was more complicated than Dean made it out to be.

 “I agreed to help with Malphas, in exchange for my freedom… for answers,” Jenna explained. “My soul was only supposed to be his if I broke my end of the deal. Crowley called it his insurance policy.”

 “I can't believe it, Jenna. What were you thinking?”

 “Dean!” Sam chided.

 “I don't know,” Jenna sobbed. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Crowley, he told me I could save humanity.”

 “And you believed him?” Dean shouted, raking a hand through his brown hair. “Jenna, he’s a demon. He’s the King of Hell.”

 “Dean enough!” Sam raised his voice to match. Dean turned and took a few steps away to try and release some of the steam that was already boiling over.

 The thing was, Jenna had believed Crowley and he hadn’t been entirely wrong. “I could have destroyed Malphas,” Jenna insisted. “If it wasn't for…”

 “The whole tearing a massive hole in the fabric of reality and destroying creation thing,” Sam finished for her, raising an eyebrow.

 “Yeah, that,” Jenna agreed with a heavy sigh. Her body seemed to deflate under the weight of it all.

 “Okay,” Sam said taking a deep breath, “let’s think this through. What was the exact wording of your contract?”

 “I… I don't see how that will help,” Jenna sighed. Dean was still pacing several yards away in the parking lot. Her blue eyes followed him even as she spoke to Sam and she swallowed reflexively.

 “Did it say specifically that you must use your power to erase Malphas from existence?” Sam questioned her.

 Jenna shook her head. “No, it stated that I had to help Crowley defeat him… I’m sure that was the wording… in return for my freedom and answers to my questions, or else my soul would become his, personally, for the rest of eternity.”

 “Are you sure?” Sam asked. “It’s important.”

 Jenna ran a hand lightly across her skin, bringing the wording of her contract to the surface, something she had learned she could do back when she was unlocking the warded boxes that Crowley had given her to practice on. Every word from the scroll that she had signed was also etched into her being. Pulling them to the surface brought about a burning sensation, but not unbearably so. She scanned her arms, then lifted her shirt slightly, reading the words etched across her stomach and found it.

 Dean, having cooled off a bit, returned to read over the contract with Jenna and Sam.

  _Paragraph 12 subsection 2. The client agrees that should she fail to assist the provider in the defeat of Malphas, that she will be in breach of contract. In the case of a breach of contract the client’s soul will be forfeit and ownership shall pass solely to the provider as payment of debts owed. The provider may, at his discretion, collect this payment at a time of his choosing._

 As Jenna removed her hand, the words faded once more from her skin, though she knew that under the surface the contract remained intact. She could feel it running through her like the blood in her veins.

 “I’m a little worried about that bit about Crowley being able to collect payment at any time,” Sam admitted.

 “Me too,” Dean agreed a grimace on his face. “But, yeah. Good call, Sammy. The rest of that is something we can work with.”

 “What do you mean?” Jenna asked her gaze darting from one brother to the other.

 “You can't use your power to erase Malphas,” Sam explained. “Right. Unless you rip a hole in the fabric of reality so large that it will just crumble and destroy creation. But, that doesn't mean that you can't still help to defeat him. We just need to find a different way.”

 What he was saying began to dawn on her, and for the first time since the angel Castiel had shown her the truth, Jenna felt a glimmer of hope.

 “It's not too late, Jenna. We can still save your soul.”


	17. Team Free Will

The drive from Chicago back to Lebanon took almost eleven hours, even with Dean's lead foot as they flew down the I-55. The three of them had stopped in Brookfield, Missouri to grab some burgers on their way home. It was then that Jenna asked Dean about Hell and confessed to the deal she had made with Crowley. The Winchesters had given her hope, but it was still a long road ahead of her, ahead of all of them, as they tried to find another way to defeat the Prince of Hell in order to save Jenna's soul.

Dean pulled the Impala up next to the entrance to the Men of Letters' bunker. A portion of the building stood above ground: a worn, cement structure that was showing its decades of disuse. The entrance though, hinted that it had once been a fortress, as the three of them walked down the stairs to the sturdy bunker door. This was a place meant to outlast whatever catastrophe might come it's way.

"So this is it?" Jenna asked, as Dean rummaged for the key. It was something, but it wasn't what she had expected from the things the brothers had told her about the place they now called home. Maybe the first real home they'd had since their mother died.

"It doesn't look like much from here, but wait until you see inside," Sam assured her. There was a look of pride on his face. This place, it meant something to them.

As soon as she stepped inside, Jenna realized that there was more to this place than she could have imagined. So much more. Before she even left the foyer, she was awestruck by the sheer contrast to the exterior. There was marble, and polished hardwood. There were wrought iron railings and vaulted ceilings. It was beautiful, sophisticated, and inviting.

Sam leaned over her shoulder, having to bend down quite a bit due to the height difference between them. "Told you," he beamed into her ear.

"You guys live here?" Jenna asked as they made their way further inside.

"When we can," Dean responded. "It's kinda nice. Me and Sam, we never really had much of a home growing up. We were always moving. One string of cheap motel rooms after another."

Jenna nodded wordlessly. She understood all too well what it was like not to have a home to go back to, although at least growing up she had had the stability they lacked.

They came out onto a mezzanine overlooking the strategic planning room. Below Jenna could see a large table with a lit up map of the world. Sitting at the table was the angel wearing the tan trench coat .

"You!" Jenna gasped.

Sam and Dean rushed over to the edge to see who Jenna was talking to.

"If you're here to try and kill me, again…"

The angel lifted his head and looked up to where the three were standing, his eyes droopy and sad. "I did not come to kill you. I have no intentions to cause you any harm," he assured her.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed.

Castiel stood and nodded to his friend. "Hello, Dean."

Sam and Dean hurried down the stairs, and Jenna followed. Though after being ambushed by the angels earlier she was wary of them as a whole, she believed that Castiel was telling the truth. If he had wanted to kill her, he had his opportunity. The two had been alone in the rubble of the subway bombing and Jenna had been on her knees, oblivious to everything except her sorrow and regret.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

Castiel stared back at his friends, and Jenna couldn't help but notice the forlorn expression on his face.

"Earth to Cas," Dean said as he snapped his fingers in front of the unresponsive angel's face.

Castiel blinked and his frown deepened in response. "I didn't have anywhere else to go," he admitted dejectedly. "After the other angels found out what I had done-"

"They kicked you out of Heaven," Dean finished for him. "Again."

"After what I did-"

"Whoa Cas," Dean interrupted. "What you did? What you did was the right thing. The decent thing. If the rest of Heaven can't see that, then screw them."

Castiel let out a heavy sigh and sank back down into one of the chairs surrounding the table with the world map. "I thought if I did this right, maybe I would be welcome back," he admitted, and Jenna felt a pang of sympathy for the excommunicated angel. "I screwed it up, Dean, just like I screw everything up."

"Cas, that ain't true, man," Dean assured him. While Castiel looked at the ground Dean gestured with his hands for Sam to back him up.

"Look Cas, what the angels wanted you to do, you didn't screw it up. You made the right choice. Not everything is black and white, and questioning your mission, that takes guts," Sam added encouragingly.

"Do you know what it is like to be hated by all of your kind?" Castiel asked. No one seemed to know how to respond to that.

Jenna sighed and pulled a chair up next to the angel. "Look, I know it might not mean much, but I appreciate what you did. You could have killed me back at the hospital and you didn't. You gave me a chance."

There was a pause, and Castiel looked up and Jenna found the bluest eyes she'd ever seen staring back at her from his solemn face.

"I was going to kill you," Castiel admitted. "Dean stopped me."

Jenna stole a quick glance at the eldest brother, before turning back to Castiel. "I think that if you had really believed killing me was the right thing to do, Dean wouldn't have been able to stop you," Jenna told him. There would have been nothing preventing him from coming back at a later time, and she sincerely doubted that a human was much of a match for an angel one on one.

"I suppose not," Castiel acquiesced. Across the room, Sam leaned in the door frame to what appeared to be a large dining room listening.

"Now, I know I made some mistakes," Jenna admitted. "But I didn't know. Until you showed me, I swear I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't know," Dean cut in.

"I'm sorry that the other angels are angry and kicked you out of Heaven. But I promise that from here on out, I'm not going to give you any reason to regret your decision," Jenna assured him. "Even though I am The Thing That Should Not Be, that doesn't mean I don't have a choice. I'm not going to destroy creation. And maybe if they see that, they will be able to understand what you did and forgive you."

Those sad blue eyes continued to stare at her. My God, it was like staring into an ocean, or the vast and limitless sky. "Thank you," Castiel said simply after a long, painful silence.

Dean stepped up behind his friend and clasped him on the shoulder. "You'll always have me and Sam," he reaffirmed. "We're family."

"I know, Dean." The angel said quietly. "You and Sam, I appreciate everything you do. It means a lot to me."

"Like Dean said, you're family," Sam echoed, as he pushed himself off the doorframe where he was leaning and took a few steps towards the others.

"What do we do now?" Castiel asked.

"Same thing we always do," Dean answered. "We figure out a way to kill Malphas and then we ice that sunuvabitch."

"How?"

"We're still working on that part," Sam admitted.

"I don't have the support or resources of Heaven anymore," Castiel said solemnly. "It will be… difficult."

"Difficult is what we do," Dean assured the angel, slapping him on the back. "Besides, we've got each other. Team Free Will, right?"

Two hunters, a rogue angel and The Thing That Should Not Be. It wasn't your typical draft pick, but maybe they could make it work. From the sounds of it the Winchesters and their angel had beaten the odds plenty of times and put a stop to some pretty powerful evils.

* * *

Hollywood, California wasn't stifling hot this time of year. It had been a late fall but now the weather was finally starting to cool off to something more reasonable. One would have expected as a demon, for Crowley to be accustomed to the heat and he was, but with the furnace that burned inside of him he found he quite enjoyed escaping it when he could.

The King of Hell had entered a sleek office tower and was making his way to the top floor which housed a well known casting agency. It had garnered quite the reputation for landing up-and-comers with roles that would catapult them to mega-stardom. That reputation drew in ambitious young actors and actresses in droves as they sought their ticket to fame. Of course, when things seemed too good to be true, they usually were. A great deal of the success the agency had experienced was due to none other than Crowley himself.

"Mr. Richards will see you now, Mr. Crowley," the attractive young blond at the reception desk informed him. She had straight hair that was tied back into a tight bun and wore a very flattering skirt that was probably just a little too short for her job, but that paired with the jet black stilettos on her feet, made her slender legs look delectably long.

"Thank you Cindy," Crowley said, flashing her a seductive grin as he passed by her desk on his way to Larry Richard's office.

Larry had a large, corner office, the outer walls of which were almost solid glass, offering him an impressive view of the city below. Some would have called it trendy and modern, but Crowley found the space rather  _boring_. There were a couple of black and white photographs on the wall, a painting, done entirely in monochrome and a large, black desk where the casting agent sat on a white leather chair behind his computer monitor.

"What are you doing here?" Larry demanded as soon as the door clicked shut behind Crowley.

"Is that any way to greet and old friend?" Crowley retorted. Though he smiled sweetly, there was an underlying sharpness to his tone.

"Friends? Is that what you think we are?" Larry replied, raising his eyebrows questioningly at the demon.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the blinds whipped shut. He didn't need an audience for what was going to come next. There was an audible click as the door locked behind him at his beckoning. He didn't need any interruptions, either.

"Cindy is right outside that door," Larry warned, though his voice trembled. "If you try anything-"

Crowley laughed. "You think that little whore is going to help you? Oh kitten, she won't even hear you scream. I've taken care of that."

"What did you do to her?" Larry demanded, his voice strangled.

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch," Crowley told him. "I didn't do anything to the lovely miss Cindy. Not yet, anyways." The demon winked and flashed him a wicked grin as he approached the desk where Larry was sitting. Leaning over the desk, Crowley drew his angel blade and slipped it under the top button of Larry's light blue dress shirt. "But, when I'm done here…" Crowley tugged up gently, popping the button and letting Larry fill in the rest.

The man's face tightened and below the desk his hands balled into fists, his nails digging into the meaty flesh of his sweating palms.

"Oh that's right, you're fucking her aren't you?" Crowley said cheerfully. "Just like you're fucking all those gullible young actresses that come in and eat up your line that  _you_ will make them famous."

For a moment, Larry said nothing as he fidgeted with the gold wedding band that encircled his ring finger. Finally he let out a resigned sigh. "What do you want, Crowley?"

"We had an agreement," Crowley stated simply as he sat down on the corner of Larry's desk. Hands folded in his lap, he cocked his head to the side and watched the casting agent through narrowed eyes.

The man's jaw clenched and he swallowed nervously, his adam's apple bobbing up and down, but he said nothing.

"I made you what you are," Crowley growled.

"Believe me, I am grateful for that," Larry told the demon.

"Grateful doesn't cut it, mate. You were supposed to help recruit souls for me," Crowley reminded him. Instead of the usual demon deal, Crowley had offered him all the success, money, and women on the side that his heart, or loins, desired. In return, he asked not for Larry's soul, but for Larry to recruit souls for him. The man was in a particularly good position to do so. Aspiring actors and actresses would give just about anything to make it big.

"I did!" Larry protested, throwing up his hands. "For years I did exactly what you asked of me. But I'm done."

"You're done when I say you're done," Crowley told him, his voice low and threatening.

The man was trembling in his seat as he struggled to maintain his resolve. "I- I don't work for you any more."

Crowley arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?" he asked as he leaned forward and clamped one hand firmly on the man's shoulder and dug the angel blade he carried into the top of his other one. It was not difficult for him to hold the man in place as he thrashed and screamed and tried to wrest himself free. Humans were weak compared to a demon, and compared to the King of Hell, they were barely even insects.

"Help!" Larry shouted frantically. "Help, please help!"

"No one can hear you, Larry," Crowley said as he withdrew the knife and wiped the blood on a white handkerchief he pulled from his coat pocket. He had made sure to use his power to soundproof the room when he had secured it. "No one is coming to save you."

No longer held in the demon's grasp, Larry jumped to his feet and fled towards the door. Crowley watched with a bemused look on his face as the pudgy man fumbled with the door handle, but it would not turn. When he got bored, Crowley reached out with his telekinetic powers, grabbed the man, flung him across the room, and slammed him back into his white, leather chair.

"Please…" Larry sobbed, snot dripping from his big, round nose.

"You can't run from me, darling," Crowley reminded him. "So why don't you tell me who you're working for now if you're not working for me."

"No one," Larry whimpered.

Bad move. Crowley was a demon after all, the King of Hell, this pathetic little human couldn't deceive him. "I doubt that," Crowley told him, turning the blade over slowly in his hands. "See, I know you. Not just the facade you put on, darling. I. Know.  _You_. And you are a greedy, obscene, pathetic little man. That is why you made a deal with me in the first place."

Larry closed his eyes and shook his head.

Crowley didn't stop. "You're a slave to your vices, dear. Drugs, women, money. Isn't that right?" He knew all about Larry's infidelities, about the sex parties he took naive young actresses to, the drugs and the alcohol, the money he paid hookers to cover the bruises he left them with. He knew every dark and dirty secret locked away in Larry's closet. "And you wouldn't risk this little honey hole, now would you? So I am going to ask again. Who are you working for?"

"Don't-" Larry pleaded, as Crowley rand the blade up the side of his face and let it settle just below his earlobe. "Please, you don't have to do this."

"Oh, but I do," Crowley replied, as he grabbed Larry's ear and pulled it taut with his free hand and then excruciatingly slowly severed the appendage and placed it on the desk in front of its former owner. Because after all, who would respect the King of Hell, if he just sat back idly while his assets double crossed him. When he spoke again his tone was firm, and he enunciated the words slowly. "Who are you working for?"

"Malphas. I'm working for Malphas, okay?" Larry admitted, panting from the pain and the adrenaline coursing through his body. "He threatened to kill me, horribly, if I didn't."

Crowley's jaw clenched. Of course, it was exactly what he had expected, but that didn't stop the rage that built in him like a pressure canner ready to explode. How dare that yellow-eyed, beaked bastard swoop in and make underhanded deals with  _his_ assets.

Those blasted angels. He had had Malphas within his grasp. They had been so close. Even the angels hadn't been able to stop the incredible power the woman possessed. And then, Castiel, Dean's pet angel, goes and disappears with her, and when they come back, suddenly the woman's had a change of heart. The look in her eyes when she had told him that she couldn't do it, it hadn't been defiance, but rather equal parts fear, regret, and resignation. Perhaps he should have stayed to hear her out, but what difference would it have made. The deal was broken, and he knew what he had to do next.

Larry was still sobbing and snivelling, one hand clutching where his ear had been. The blood ran down the side of his face and dripped from his saggy chin to where it stained the white leather seat underneath him. "If you're going to kill me, will you please just do it?" he begged.

"Kill you?" Crowley asked, arching an eyebrow and shifting his weight so he was facing the man more directly. "Oh, kitten, we're just getting started."

Larry's hazel eyes widened behind his thick-rimmed glasses and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat at the sight of the demon's angel blade. There was terror staring back at him but Crowley was too distracted to derive any real joy from the man's fear and suffering. His heart just wasn't in it as he thought about the woman.

As per their contract, her soul now belonged to him and he was free to collect it at his discretion. Part of him thought he should have done it then and there when she betrayed him. But he hadn't. He hadn't wanted to. Not in anger, not with her. Not with the Hardy Boys and the God Squad there to put an end to him if he did.

_You're going soft_ , Crowley chastised himself as he tore into the flesh of his victim with renewed vigor as if somehow that would make up for the fact that he had let the woman walk. Somehow he needed to prove to whom, to himself perhaps, that he was still the evilest evil, and so he cut away at Larry, bit by bit, letting his screams fill the room.

The thing was though, Crowley knew he was going soft, ever since that failed curing ritual. Sure, he could still sit here and nonchalantly torture this man while he screamed and begged for mercy. But he couldn't kill one measly little woman and collect a soul that was rightfully his because... because why? Because he cared? He was a demon. He wasn't supposed to care. But he just didn't  _want_  to kill her.

Of course Crowley could just wait until the woman died of natural causes. What was her life if not a speck compared to him. Just a blip in time. He had lived centuries and so much longer than that in Hell where time flowed differently. A few days on earth could be a year in Hell, and one year could be one hundred and twenty. Compared to her, he was ancient so what was it to wait a little longer.

Crowley dug the blade in deeper, earning a renewed howl of agony from his victim. He closed his eyes and twisted the blade, inhaling the glorious scent of blood and fear and pain. Deeper, and deeper, he drove it into Larry's flesh, and the screams got louder and louder but it was never enough to drown out the thoughts in his head.

Blasted! It was no use. Crowley grabbed Larry by the hair and leaned down so the man could feel his hot breath on the ear that was still attached to his head. "You're getting off easy, this time," Crowley whispered. Then in one fluid motion he brought the blade up and dragged it across the man's neck severing his carotid artery.

Crowley pulled out the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the blood spray that had showered his face. Glancing down at the body now slumped in the chair he gave a thoughtful grunt and then turned towards the door. On his way out he slit Cindy's throat too, for good measure. One never knew who might come by asking questions.

* * *

Jenna lay awake in an unfamiliar room staring at the green glow of an alarm clock. The display read 3:00. With a sigh she pulled off the covers and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. She was exhausted, but she just could not get her mind to shut off after everything that had happened over the past twenty four hours.

The bunker seemed eerily large and empty as she wandered through, her footsteps echoing in the halls. As she approached the sitting room, there was a faint blue glow and she discovered that it was Castiel sitting in front of the TV watching infomercials. The angel was leaning intently forwards, his bright blue eyes glued to the screen.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Jenna asked.

"I'm an angel. We don't need to sleep," Castiel told her, never once averting his eyes from the screen. "Have you seen the Slap Chop?" He asked referring to the current infomercial he was watching, not waiting for a response. "He's right people don't eat enough vegetables."

"Um, yeah," Jenna wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"The Slap Chop makes chopping vegetables easy. You just slap the top of it. I wonder why everyone doesn't have one," the angel continued.

Jenna gave her head a little shake, then walked over to the couch and sank down into the well-worn cushions. Shifting onto her hip she tucked her feet half under her, being short it was more comfortable than letting them dangle unable to reach the floor.

Hours passed, and the two of them sat there in silence. Jenna was lost in her own thoughts and Castiel was glued to the TV, a welcome distraction from the loss and pain he was feeling. Somehow though, there was comfort in the simply presence of the other both wrapped up in their own suffering, rather than to be sitting alone in the big, empty space. She supposed it was true what they said: misery loves company.

Jenna sighed. Though she knew she shouldn't, she missed Crowley, and in her exhausted state it was hard to stay angry. It was absurd. The demon held a contract on her soul, he had used her to try and squash his enemy, and then he had simply disappeared. Except… except it was hard to forget their late night talks, the countless hours he spent with her helping her practice her skills, and the way he had believed in her. She remembered the way he had stayed with her until she fell asleep after she had erased that first man. And especially right now, in the wee hours of the morning, she missed sitting on the steps by his throne while he read his reports and lulled her to sleep. Could he really not have cared, not even a little?

Perhaps he had his reasons, Jenna consoled herself. Though even in her sleep-deprived state she knew that was just a line to make her feel better and let her hang on to any sliver of hope that there had been something meaningful between them, but she couldn't help it. She missed that smarmy British accent, and that charming smile. She missed his razor sharp wit and sense of humor. Hell, she even missed the scent of his cologne wafting through the air somewhere he had just passed. The thought that she might never see him again, that she might never hear his voice or look into his eyes or… her hand came up to her chest and her slender fingers wrapped around the pendant that hung around her neck.

At 6:00 the last infomercial ended. It had been for some thigh-shaper. Castiel had not seemed so keen on its usefulness as he had the Slap Chop, though he had still watched the program attentively. It didn't take a psychiatrist to see that he was hurting and his fascination with these useless advertisements was just a distraction, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the angel. After all, his suffering was for her, because he chose to let her live and give her a chance, and in that choice he had sacrificed so much.

The infomercials gave way to the morning news, and there was one story that drew Jenna out of her self-absorbed thoughts. Castiel too, seemed particularly alert in a more meaningful way than he been watching the TV all night and into the morning.

" _Scientists have confirmed over a two dozen cases of smallpox across the globe including the United States, Canada, China, Russia, Poland and Great Britain. This is an unprecedented event that has infectious disease experts stumped. Smallpox was eradicated in the late 1970s and there has not been a single case since. According to lead scientists, these new cases shouldn't be possible and no one has any real answers as to why this is happening. Religious fanatics are claiming end times and theories have been popping up on the internet regarding climate change and the melting permafrost, but scientists insist that such a thing could not account for the sudden widespread surge of the disease that we are seeing here."_

Castiel and Jenna looked at each other with worry in their eyes. "Go wake Sam and Dean," the angel instructed and Jenna did not hesitate to get up and rush through the hall towards the brothers rooms.

There was one glaring explanation that the conspiracy theorists on the internet were missing: Malphas. If the Prince of Hell was behind the sudden resurgence of smallpox, that could only mean one thing. The time of building fortifications and securing resources was over and his plan to destabilize the earth had been set in motion, and they still had no idea how they were going to stop him. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.


	18. An Unexpected Lead

Instead of a renewed sense of hope and opportunity, the new day brought with it anxiety and despair. Malphas was on the move, and Team Free Will was anything but ready. The four of them had only just regrouped at the Men of Letter's bunker, and already the world seemed to be falling apart. With the smallpox outbreak they could only imagine what would come next.

While Sam and Dean had settled into the large formal dining room and began to sort through the lore, Castiel had gone to get breakfast. Jenna had offered since Castiel had hunted with the Winchesters in the past and would be more help than her, but after what happened last time and knowing that Malphas was still out there, no one had thought it a good idea.

"He's been gone a long time," Jenna commented as she wandered aimlessly around the room. She wished the brothers would give her something to do. It's not like she was completely useless.

"He lost his wings when he was kicked out of Heaven," Sam explained, looking up briefly from the stack of journals he was sorting through.

"Again," Dean added as he walked over and dumped another armful of scrolls in front of Sam. The younger brother grimaced and Jenna wasn't sure if it was because of the added workload or what their friend had experienced. It seemed this wasn't the first time the rogue angel had been put through the wringer.

Jenna picked up a book from one of the shelves then, realizing it was in Latin, put it back down. "So, no more teleporting all over the place," she presumed.

"Nope. Dude's gotta walk the Earth like a human," Dean replied.

Jenna chewed on the inside of her lip. "What about his other powers. Is he…" she struggled for the right words. The angel's soul was visible to her, she knew he wasn't human, but-

"He's still got his mojo, if that's what you mean," Dean told her. That was, for the most part, what she had meant.

"He still has his grace," Sam clarified from where he sat looking through the scrolls and journals Dean was depositing in front of him.

Jenna nodded thoughtfully. It pained her what Castiel had sacrificed to save her, to give her a chance and let her live. Literally, she owed the angel her life. It was a debt she'd never be able to repay, especially while Crowley still held a contract on her soul.

Dean ambled back over and dumped a final stack of books on the table with a thud. A thick cloud of dust billowed from their yellowed pages. "Not that I don't love research-"

Sam snorted and looked up from the pile in front of him. "Who are you kidding Dean, you hate research."

Dean chuckled as he sank down into his chair. "You're right. So, before I hit the books, what do we know about the Princes of Hell?" he asked.

Jenna did a double take. Princes. There was more than one? That was a terrifying thought. If Malphas could cause so much havoc and prove such a formidable enemy, what could a group of them wreak upon the world.

"Not a lot," Sam admitted, putting down the journal he was skimming through. "They were the first demons created by Lucifer, after Lilith. They are ancient, and powerful. In the past they led Hell's army, but when Lucifer was put in the cage they all went into hiding and most haven't been heard from since. No one knows where they are or what they're up to."

"Okay, but what will kill them?" Dean asked, getting straight to the point. It was after all the most crucial bit of information that they needed.

Sam scratched his chin. "Well, the First Blade killed Cain," he said, "so it stands to reason that since he came before them it would also work to kill a Prince of Hell."

Cain, Jenna thought, as in Cain and Abel? So much of what she had believed about truth and fiction had been proven wrong since that very first day when she had run into the Winchesters and been kidnapped by the King of Hell. There was little that would surprise her anymore.

"There's two problems with that theory," Dean grumbled, blowing the dust off the cover of an encyclopedia-sized tome he'd pulled out of the stack named, rather aptly, _A Study in Demonology_. "One, we no longer have the First Blade. Two, I don't have the mark and Amara is somewhere in the universe doing some family bonding with Chuck."

Sam pursed his lips but said nothing. They were going to have to dig deeper, Jenna realized. Even with the brother's depth of knowledge and experience this was a tough one for them. It wasn't going to be easy.

Jenna's mind was reeling. There was so much to take in. The First Blade. The Mark. Amara. Chuck. Who and what were all these things? If she had felt more comfortable doing so, she would have loved to have asked the brothers, but she didn't. They didn't need the interruptions just to satisfy her curiosity. After all, it wasn't just her soul on the line. Sam and Dean were busy trying to save, well, pretty much everything.

Besides, it wasn't like it had been with Crowley, when the two of them had sat up late into the night in his study just talking, and she could ask him anything. It had been part of their deal and she had never felt like a bother, and he had never treated her like one either. For a moment she wished she was back there, listening to his voice as he imparted all of the secrets of the universe and answered whatever questions she had. Just to see him, just to hear his voice… Just to ask him one more question. Not about the First Blade, or Amara, or Chuck, or the Mark. Not about Malphas. Not about any of those things. Just to ask him-

Footsteps echoed down the hall into the kitchen, interrupting Jenna's thoughts. When she looked up, she saw Castiel, the tail end of his tan trench coat and his legs all that was visible behind the armful of grocery bags he was carrying.

Dean looked up and shook his head. "Cas, we told you to go get breakfast, not buy the whole supermarket," he admonished playfully.

"I didn't know what to get," the angel's muffled voice came from behind the pile of bags. "So I bought a selection of different breakfast foods."

Sam and Jenna hustled over and relieved the angel of some of the bags, placing them on the kitchen counter. As they rummaged through the bags, they pulled out a vast array of foods just as Castiel had promised. There was pancake mix and maple syrup, the good stuff from Canada. There was yogurt, granola and enough fruit to put together a fruit basket. The angel had bought frozen hash browns, two dozen eggs, and a pound of bacon.

"All this food, and only one pound of bacon," Dean grumbled.

"You know you're going to die of a heart attack, right?" Sam retorted.

Still that wasn't all. From the last two bags Jenna pulled a dozen bagels, five different boxes of cereal, and a gallon of milk. The counter was literally chock full of food.

"We could feed an army with all this," Sam laughed as he began to put some of the items away. They certainly didn't need it all right now.

Dean chuckled, and helped his brother before grabbing a box of cereal for himself. "Cas, next time just pick one thing and stick with it," he suggested. "Well, and bacon. Always get bacon." Sam rolled his eyes and Jenna laughed quietly to herself. As they sat down to eat amongst all their research at the dining room table, Dean turned to the angel and asked, "hey, Cas, what about an archangel, they got the mojo to take out a Prince of Hell?"

"Yes, an archangel would be able to kill a Prince of Hell" Castiel replied unequivocally and everyone perked up. "But, all of the archangels are dead, except for Lucifer. And even if Lucifer was not locked in the cage, I very much doubt that he would help to kill his second in command."

Once again everyone deflated, like a helium balloon, abandoned in the corner weeks after a child's birthday party. It seemed every good idea they had had a condition attached to it that rendered it useless. Jenna could erase Malphas from existence, but in doing so she would destroy creation. The First Blade could probably kill the demon, but Dean needed the Mark of Cain which he no longer possessed. An archangel could without a doubt kill a Prince of Hell, but the only one that was left alive was the same one that had created the Princes and would not be willing to help.

"Well, what about a Hand of God?" Dean suggested.

Castiel, being the only one amongst them who had no need to eat, was pacing on the other side of the table. "I don't know," he admitted.

"The Lance of Michael did kill Ramiel," Sam reminded them and Jenna felt that flicker of hope, followed by the despair of knowing in the next breath Sam would say something to extinguish it, and she wasn't wrong. "But where are we going to find a Hand of God?" The younger brother added dishearteningly. "We don't even know if there are any left. Let alone where they might be hidden."

Dean let out a heavy sigh. "Got a better idea?" he asked. It was beginning to feel like they were grasping at straws.

There was a long pause as everyone wracked their brains for anything that might work. "What about the Colt?" Sam finally said, breaking the silence. "It worked on Azazel. He was a Prince of Hell, right?" His eyes lit as he waited for Dean's response.

Whatever this Colt was, it sounded promising to Jenna, and from what she could see it seemed like Dean was seriously considering it. Maybe, just maybe they had stumbled upon the answer, she thought hopefully.

"We lost the Colt, Sammy. And we have no idea where it is," Dean said finally and Jenna felt that hope begin to slip away.

The muscles in Sam's face twitched and his lips pressed into a firm line. "At least we know it exists," he pointed out. "It's better than going on a wild goose chase for a Hand of God that might not even be out there."

The two stared at each other over their breakfasts, Dean with a bowl of cereal and Sam with fruit and yogurt, locked in some sort of stalemate. "You're right, Sammy," Dean relented, finally giving in. "The Colt might be the best shot we've got."

The smile that flickered across Sam's face was pained. He may have been right, but that didn't mean they were any closer to actually getting this done. Just because they knew the Colt might be able to kill Malphas, didn't mean they would be able to find it. Jenna understood just how far they still had to go, but at least, she thought, they had a direction now.

There was a long silence as they all finished their breakfasts and thought about what was ahead. It was with mild disinterest that Jenna picked at her bagel. There was too much weighing on her mind.

"We should probably look through this lore, just in case," Sam voiced the thought that had been plaguing them all. "We don't know where the Colt is, and if we can't find it we're going to need a plan B."

Dean nodded. Once again his little brother was right. "Okay, you see what you can dig up on the Princes of Hell, and Cas and I will see about locating the Colt," Dean suggested, masterfully dodging having to do the bulk of the research. Sam did not object. He seemed the more scholarly of the two.

Jenna waited, but no one seemed to notice that she was still sitting there. "What about me?" she asked. Sure, she wasn't a hunter, but she wasn't totally useless either. Or at least she liked to think she wasn't. Even if she couldn't use her powers, per se, she could still see things. She could still help. Besides, wasn't that the point: she had to help defeat Malphas to free herself from the contract. It wasn't like she could just sit back and let someone else do all the work for her.

"Um…" Dean, puffed out his cheeks and looked from Sam to Castiel and back again as he struggled to find something for her to do. "Why don't you stay here and help Sam do research."

Research. She supposed the experienced hunter that Dean was, he figured she would be a liability going out into the field with him and Castiel. Funny how that worked now that she could no longer use her power. Well, at least she would be doing something.

* * *

 

Malphas was quickly becoming the proverbial thorn in Crowley's side. If he had thought it was bad before when half of his demons were in open revolt, it was only getting worse. The tide he thought he had stemmed, was beginning to break through once more as the Prince of Hell chipped away at every deal and every asset that Crowley had secured for himself over the years. It wasn't just Larry Richards, the casting agent. It was every deal and arrangement he'd ever made. One by one, Malphas was either turning them, or killing them.

It was a double edged sword. Not only was the Prince of Hell depriving Crowley of the souls which fueled his power, he was gaining many of those potential souls for himself, strengthening his own powers. Crowley knew that with the reduced soul input he was facing, he had to find a way to stop Malphas or increase supply before his power was diminished to the point where he would be no match for the Prince.

Worse yet, his demons could see what was happening. Last time, the purge had been enough to get them back in line. After he had ruthlessly hunted down and executed every known Malphas supporter he could find, Hell had been quiet. Hell had been a well oiled machine. Now though, there were rumblings, quiet at first, but gaining momentum with each new soul that Malphas stole out from under him. The demons, seeing a potential shift in leadership, were once again turning to open defiance.

If he couldn't secure his assets and get the demons in line, Crowley's kingdom was going to crumble around him.

So here he was, bouncing from one corner of the globe to another, following up on every deal and contract he'd ever made, revisiting every asset he'd ever recruited, and making sure they understood the consequences of making underhanded deals with his enemy behind his back. For the moment he was in Detroit, paying a visit to a particular loan shark that was involved in some pretty shady business. The type of business that provided ample opportunity for Crowley to cash in. Illegal gambling rings, pit fighting, the works.

"Please," Mitch begged. "I swear, I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't talked to any Mal- what's his name."

"Malphas," Crowley replied cooly, as he rolled up the cuffs of his suit jacket. The irony wasn't lost on him, as this man knelt before him pleading for mercy when he himself had stood and watched as his goons roughed up those who didn't keep up to date paying their debts. While he may have left the dirty work to his muscle, Mitch had still been the one calling the shots.

"I don't know this Malphas," Mitch repeated, the pitch of his voice raising an octave as the King of Hell turned and took a step towards him.

Crowley tutted, shaking his head as he walked over and lifted Mitch by the front of his shirt. "I wish that were true, mate, but I can see his stain on your soul," the demon informed him. "And here I thought we had something special, you and me. But you're willing to spread those legs for any ol' demon that walks through the doors and offers you a piece of the pie."

"That's not-" the man's words were cut off as Crowley threw him backwards and he impacted with great force against the wall, the wind exiting his lungs in a painful rush.

The demon grabbed him by the arm and drove a knife through his palm, pinning his hand to the wall. Mitch screamed in agony and reached to remove the blade, but his other arm was quickly seized. "You'll have to excuse me for a moment," Crowley told him, as he stabbed another knife through his other hand, leaving him helplessly pinned to the wall like a twisted, living version of pin the tail on the donkey.

Crowley stepped to the side and pulled a pendent from his suit pocket, the matching half to the one he had given to Jenna. It burned with an unnatural blue energy. When he wrapped his fist around it and closed his eyes, he was suddenly elsewhere. Not physically, physically he remained in the back room of the loan shark's business, but his senses showed him a room in the bunker back in Lebanon. It worked something like a scrying spell, and he could see her there, clear as day.

_Jenna was sitting alone on a bed in a dimly lit bedroom. She leaned back against the headboard, her knees tucked up to her chest. "Crowley," she called out quietly. There was hesitation in her voice. Uncertainty. Even from a distance he could see those brilliant, pale blue eyes as they searched the room for any sign of him. When he didn't appear, her shoulders slumped. "Please," she cried, tears running down her freckled cheeks. "You said if I ever needed you, all I had to do was ask."_

Mitch's screaming was in the background, an annoying constant whine like a loose fan belt heard from a block away, but that just wouldn't stop. Crowley opened his eyes, pulling himself away from the vision. "Shut up, would you," he growled, reaching out and closing his hand into a fist. His telekinetic powers wrapped around Mitch's throat, cutting off the sound and sending him into another frantic fit. As he struggled against the knives, more blood poured from the wounds, a thick red waterfall. Crowley sighed, relieved by the silence, and closed his eyes once more.

_Jenna was staring at her knees while she spoke. "There's this gun, this special gun. Sam and Dean say it can kill just about anything, and that it could kill Malphas," Jenna explained and Crowley knew right away it was the Colt she spoke of. "It's the only hope we've got, but we've been looking for weeks, and we're no closer to finding it than when we started." Once again, she looked expectantly around the room waiting for Crowley, waiting for_ him _._

_"I'm asking you now. I- I…" The woman dropped her head and wrapped her arms around her knobby knees. "I know what happens if I fail, but you have to want Malphas dead more than you want my soul, right? Please if there is some way you can help, if you have any idea where this gun, this Colt, is... please Crowley, I'm begging you. Help us. Help_ me _." Her body convulsed with sobs as she cried into her sleeve, muffling the sound so that no one would hear._

Crowley didn't need to hear because he could see her as if he were standing right across from her. Something tugged inside of Crowley's chest, an unfamiliar feeling that left him wanting to go to her. It was all so… so human. Damn that Moose, he cursed under his breath.

* * *

 

It was late when Jenna finally staggered out of her room and joined the rest of Team Free Will in the strategy room. Everyone was finished breakfast, but Jenna didn't mind. Food was the last thing on her mind at the moment.

"Well, rise and shine!" Dean's voice bellowed as she walked up to the table. He and Castiel were packing up to go rattle the cages of some supernatural artifact dealers and see if they could get any leads on the Colt.

Jenna dropped her head so he wouldn't be able to see her red, puffy eyes. Seeing everyone here made her want to turn around and crawl back under the rock she'd been hiding under all morning, to retreat back to her room and the safety of her blankets.

Sam looked up and she could feel his eyes on her, studying her. "You've been crying," he noticed.

"I'm fine," Jenna replied as she dropped glumly into one of the chairs and grabbed the book she'd left bookmarked the night before.

Sam closed his laptop and turned his attention solely to her. Jenna kept reading, pretending not to notice his concerned stare. "You are not fine," Sam told her, and it was true. She was anything but fine.

"What do you want me to say?" Jenna snapped, almost bursting back into tears. Oh how she didn't want to cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

"How about, what's going on?" Dean cut in as he holstered his handgun and double checked that he had enough magazines preloaded.

"Well lets see… The world's ending. I'm going to lose my soul. Where would you like me to start?" Jenna replied bitterly. The book she had laid out in front of her remained at the same book marked page as when she'd grabbed it.

"First of all, you're not going to lose your soul. We're going to figure this out," Dean assured her. "Second of all, all this crap that is going on in the world, was already going on yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that, and you were out here all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ready to fight back. So what's happened?"

Jenna folded over and put her head down on the table. The truth wasn't as simple as she made it out to be. How could she explain it to Dean who had so clearly disapproved when he had seen her and Crowley together in the parking lot of the abandoned industrial building. It wasn't as if she didn't get it either. Crowley was a demon. He was the King of Hell. So how could she ever make them understand what she felt when she didn't understand it herself. How could she tell them that she had called to Crowley, wishing, hoping, praying he would answer her, and that she was crushed because he hadn't.

Suddenly Sam's big warm hand was on her shoulder, warmth flowing into her aching skin, but not the warmth she longed for. For how big he was, he had moved with ninja-like stealth. That or she had been so absorbed in her own misery that she simply hadn't noticed that he'd gotten up. "Jenna, talk to us," Sam begged of her.

Jenna shook her head, her face buried in the crook of her arm. "Lets just... lets just find this Colt, or another way to kill Malphas, okay?" She mumbled without lifting her head, her words muffled by her arm.

Once Malphas was dead she'd be free of her contract. Then she could forget about Crowley, or at least she could try. Sam pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose. "Okay," he gave in, releasing her from his grasp and returning to his side of the table.

Jenna got up and dragged herself towards the kitchen to get a coffee. Half the night she'd been up crying, the ugly, uncontrollable kind of crying that didn't care about logic or reason, only what the heart felt. Now, faced with another day the caffeine seemed to be her only hope of some semblance of motivation or normalcy. At least, perhaps, it would be enough to help her play the part.

When she returned, it was to Sam's excited face with the blue glow of his laptop screen. "Check this out," he called, waving everyone over while he pulled up an email. "It's a lead on the Colt. Apparently the last known owner was a rare arms collector in New York City."

Dean gave the laptop a sideways glance. "Who's it from?" He asked skeptically.

Sam's face tightened in concentration as he looked for the sender's email address. "It doesn't say," he replied, clearly puzzled.

"It has to say who it's from" Dean said, pushing himself in next to the computer. "Let me see." Sam slid his chair back giving his brother some space, and then watched with a smug grin as Dean got increasingly frustrated. "It doesn't say," he finally relented. Sam didn't have to say a word, the look he gave his brother said it all: I told you so.

Castiel walked up behind Dean and stood awkwardly close as he leaned over his shoulder to read the email. "It could be a trap," the angel pointed out.

"It could be," Sam agreed. "But it's the only lead we've got. We at least have to follow up on it."

"Guess we're going on a road trip," Dean replied cheerfully.

A surge of hope worked its way through Jenna's body and settled in her chest. This could be big. It could be exactly what they needed. If it wasn't, as Castiel had so readily pointed out, a trap. Still it was something. It was a direction. It was a glimmer of light in the dark tunnel they'd been trying to navigate.

But there was another thought that crept into her head. A quiet, hopeful whisper she was almost afraid to acknowledge in case she was wrong. That whisper was a single word: _Crowley_.


	19. New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the support! Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. On the plus side I wrote a whole other scene then decided it would fit better at the start of the next chapter, so that chapter is half written already ;)

Team Free Will was following up on their only lead on the Colt: a mysterious email that claimed the gun's last known owner was a rare arms collector named Frank Reynolds in New York City. The quartet had spent the night in a cheap motel in Terre Haute, Indiana as they worked their way along the I-70. In the morning, they'd struck out once more, stopping in Zanesville, Ohio to fill up gas.

While Dean filled the gas, Castiel and Jenna sat in the backseat. Sam frowned as he looked through the window. The anxiety and uncertainty the woman felt was easy to read as she fidgeted with her hands and stared out into nowhere. He felt bad for her, he really did. This lead was anything but a sure thing, and knowing that if they failed Crowley would own her soul, couldn't be easy. But they weren't going to fail. They couldn't. After all, it wasn't just her soul on the line, it was all of humanity.

Sam entered the gas station and grabbed an armful of snacks: chips, chocolate bars, soda, beef jerky - the works. Depositing the items on the counter by the till, he grabbed a copy of the morning newspaper and threw it down with the rest of it. When he caught sight of the headline the blood drained from his face and he turned pale as a ghost.

"Will that be all?" The cashier asked.

"And the gas," Sam answered, his eyes still glued to the front page of the paper. "Pump number four."

"That will be $52.73." Sam pulled out some crumpled bills and slid them across the counter without anymore more than a grunt. "Here's your receipt," the cashier said, holding out the slip of paper. Sam didn't even reply. He was already halfway to the door as he rushed back to the car to impart the bad news to his companions.

"Why so grim?" Dean asked, looking up as Sam approached the car. He was just finishing screwing on the gas cap.

"Remember all the demon sign around Hamilton County, Tennessee?" Sam asked bitterly as he slapped the newspaper down on the hood of the Impala. Dean slid around to take a look. "Well, I think we know what Malphas was up to now. Dean, we need to stop him," He said, his voice urgent. "And soon."

"Jesus christ," Dean breathed as he read the headline. "There was a nuclear plant meltdown in Hamilton County?"

Sam nodded, his face twitching with rage. "They had to evacuate everyone," he told his brother. The scope of the disaster was huge, but he knew it was nothing compared to Malphas's grand plan. This was just the start.

By that point the commotion had alerted the passengers in the backseat that something was going on. The two of them were climbing out of the car. "What is going on?" Castiel asked.

"Just get back in the car," Dean told them. "We'll explain on the way."

"It's Malphas, isn't it?" Jenna asked, her glacial blue eyes darting between Sam and his older brother as she clutched the car door so tight her knuckles turned white.

"Yes," Sam said stiffly. It was Malphas. It had to be.

The four of them got back in the Impala and completed the journey in relative silence. The mood in the car had been tense since their discovery at the gas station. The Prince of Hell was hardly giving them any room to breath. The disasters were piling up like a multi-car accident on the interstate.

Once they had arrived in New York City, their luck seemed to turn around. They discovered that an open house was being held at the apartment building where Frank Reynolds lived to try and sell one of the units on a lower floor. It was a blessing, as they had hardly had any time to do any research on Frank or the building, and this gave them an in. Dean had quickly called up the realtor, Brandy Craig, and arranged to stop by and take a look.

They parked several blocks away. Sam was rifling through some documents in the trunk while Dean tucked a lock pick set inside his suit jacket. This was an upscale neighborhood, and they would have to look the part. "Here, put this on," he overheard Dean tell Jenna as she clambered out of the car, dressed in suitably sophisticated dress and an elegant, matching winter jacket that they had purchased on one of the brother's many fraudulent credit cards.

Sam looked up and Jenna was rolling the gold wedding band between her slender fingers with a puzzled look on her face. "What's this for?" she asked.

"You're going to be Mrs. Dean Winchester," Dean told her.

"Actually you're going to be Mrs. Bonham," Sam corrected, as he passed out the fake IDs. Her and Dean would be playing a couple interested in purchasing the unit. "I'll be your financial consultant, Mr. Jones," Sam explained. Castiel, who's acting skills left much to be desired, would be their eyes on the ground, letting them know when Mr. Reynolds left the building with his gold-digging girlfriend.

Dean slapped her on the back. "Welcome to working in the field," he told her with cheerful enthusiasm.

One look at Jenna as she shot a panicked glance at Sam told him she didn't share in the enthusiasm at all. "You'll do fine," he assured her. "You're ready for this." It was a little white lie. All they'd ever let her do was research. So yes, they were throwing her in the deep end, but she could handle it. Probably.

"What do I do?" Jenna asked half-jogging behind Sam with his longer legs as they approached the apartment building.

"Just look around and pretend to be interested in the apartment," Sam instructed. "Follow Dean's lead."

"I-"

"You've got this," Sam said, shoving Jenna over into Dean before she could protest further or the realtor's agent standing across the street welcoming people and directing them to the unit became suspicious. Dean placed a hand on the small of her back and led her forward. Sam grimaced as she stumbled awkwardly in her heels, but as they got closer she managed, to his great relief, to pull herself mostly together.

"We're here to see the unit on the eighth floor," Dean informed the realtor's agent when they reached the door. "I spoke with Brandy on the phone this morning."

"Ah yes, Mr. Bonham. Mrs. Craig did mention you. She is already at the unit. Please take the elevator. The eighth floor has been locked open for the open house, but the building security usually requires a key card."

"Thank you," Dean said with a curt nod before heading to the elevator. Sam followed behind.

Once the elevator doors closed they were on their own once more for the brief trip up to the eighth floor. Jenna was visibly tense, and was breathing heavily as she tried to calm her nerves. Sam leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Just relax." Jenna nodded and took one more deep breath before the doors opened. Sam crossed his fingers, she just had to keep it together and play the part until they heard from Castiel.

"You must be Brandy," Dean said, greeting the realtor warmly. "I'm John Bonham, we spoke on the phone this morning. This is my wife, Alice," he gestured to Jenna who smiled and offered the lady her hand.

The rest of the afternoon, Jenna managed to act the part of Dean's wife passably. Whenever he placed his hand on her back, or an arm around her hip, Sam noticed her posture stiffened a bit, but no one else seemed to notice or pay them any mind. Everyone was too preoccupied looking at the apartment to care and that worked out to their benefit.

Finally the text came in from Castiel. Frank Reynolds had left the building with his girlfriend. This was their chance to sneak in and locate the Colt. Sam gave a little nod to his brother, signalling that it was time. "Thank you so much for your time, Brandy," Dean said on queue, giving her a firm handshake. "My wife and I are very interested, but I would like to take some time to speak with my financial consultant in private," he explained, gesturing to Sam. "We will be in touch."

"Thank you Mr. Bonham, Mrs. Bonham," Brandy said with a well-rehearsed smile. "I look forward to hearing from you. Don't wait too long. A unit like this doesn't come up very often and there are sure to be plenty of offers."

"Of course," Dean agreed, and the three of them left together and began walking back towards the elevator. With a quick glance around to make sure that they were alone in the hall and that no one was watching, they ducked past the elevator and into the fire-escape stairwell. Frank Reynold's apartment was on the twelfth floor.

"It's locked," Sam said once they reached the correct floor. It made sense. What good would a key-card system for the elevator do for building security if someone could just hop into the fire-escape and walk to whatever floor they chose. So of course the doors only worked one way: down.

"Not a problem," Dean assured him, grinning as he pulled out the lock-pick set that he had tucked away in his inside pocket. They were in the twelfth floor hallway in no time flat.

"There's only two units on this floor," Sam explained. "Frank Reynolds is unit 12A."

It didn't take long for Dean to break into the unit, while Sam kept watch for any unwelcome guests. "Got it," Dean said triumphantly as the door swung open revealing a spacious and well kept apartment.

"Alright, we'll split up," Sam instructed. They didn't know how much time they would have, and that way they could cover more ground more quickly.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for!" Jenna exclaimed. Dean described the Colt in detail, and when they were sure that Jenna understood what they were looking for they split up. Within minutes Sam heard Jenna's voice call out from another room. "Hey, guys!" He nearly crashed into his older brother as they both rushed to her. "Might it be one of these?" Jenna asked, gesturing to the back-lit, glass display case that covered an entire wall.

Sam's eyes darted from side to side as he quickly honed in on the one they were looking for. "There it is!" he said, pointing at the Colt. The display case was locked, so Dean smashed the glass and removed their prize, tucking it away safely inside his jacket. "Good work, Jenna," Sam praised.

Dean slapped her on the back. "We'll make a hunter out of you yet," he teased.

"Oh no," Jenna protested, holding her hands up in a stop gesture for emphasis. "I don't think so. Once Malphas is dead, I'm done."

"That's what they all say," Dean replied with a knowing grin. It wouldn't be so bad, Sam thought. With her sight, she could be a real asset to the team. That was, if she wanted to join them. Perhaps she would change her mind. It was a tough life, but saving people made it all worth it.

* * *

 

When they stepped back outside, it was as if they had stepped into an alternate reality. Somehow, in the hour or so that they had been inside, the city had descended into chaos. The bustling, crisp winter afternoon had been replaced by shouting and fighting in the streets. Cars had been set on fire. Shops were being looted.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean growled.

Jenna looked around with the same wild-eyed bewilderment as the two hunters. "I don't know," she admitted.

"We need to get somewhere safe and find out what's happening," Sam said urgently. There was a pub across the street. At least they would have a TV. Perhaps there would be something on the news. The three of them ducked inside and were met by the click of a shotgun shell being chambered. "Whoa, whoa," Sam said holding up his hands. "We're not here to hurt you. We're just trying to find out what's going on."

"Please," Jenna begged when the barkeep didn't lower his weapon and continued to eye them suspiciously. They couldn't die now, not when they had the Colt and were so close to being able to kill Malphas. Not here, not like this.

The barkeep narrowed his eyes. "You haven't heard?" he asked surprised.

"Heard what?" Sam asked anxiously. A bead of sweat had begun to form on his forehead.

The barkeep nodded towards the TV above the bar and lowered the shotgun. Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. "They're calling it the worst terror attack on US soil since 9/11," he told them solemnly and they tensed once more, but for a different reason.

Jenna stared up at the TV, and her jaw went slack. "That's-"

"The Statue of Liberty," Sam finished for her. He exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. The very symbol of freedom was nothing more than a smouldering pile of ruin.

"People are going nuts," the barkeep explained. "They're dragging anyone that doesn't look like them, or practice the same faith as them out into the streets. You've seen it out there. It's madness." Sam pressed his lips together and gave a solemn nod. Examining his thick brown hair, almond-shaped eyes, and darker skin, Jenna suddenly understood why he had been on the defensive when they had come through the door.

"We need to get back to the bunker," Dean stated. There were several blocks separating them from the Impala, their ride out of this nightmare. With the warzone that the streets had turned into, even such a short distance would be no easy task.

"What about Cas?" Jenna asked. The angel had been their eyes on the ground while they had been inside. Since he had been excommunicated from Heaven, again, he had lost his wings and couldn't simply zip to safety. They had no idea where he was or if he was even okay.

"I'll text him and tell him to meet us at the car," Dean said.

Jenna nodded. There wasn't much else they could do. The three of them thanked the barkeep and wished him luck. "Stay safe," Sam told him as they ducked back out onto the streets.

Jenna's pulse raced, adrenaline coursing through her veins, as they navigated the treacherous blocks towards their ride home. Sam and Dean led the way, and Jenna with her shorter legs jogged behind them. All three did their best to keep a low profile and not draw any undue attention to themselves.

Someone noticed them slinking alongside a row of shops and shouted at them. When they didn't stop, the man threw the molotov cocktail he was holding in their direction. The beer bottle smashed right in front of Jenna setting the street ablaze. Other rioters, acting as part of the herd, tossed several more, and in a moment, Jenna found her path to the brothers entirely blocked.

"I'll go around," Jenna said, gesturing to the alleyway not far back. "I'll meet you in the next block." Sam nodded and him and Dean took off in one direction, while Jenna looped around in the other.

When she rounded the corner, she came face to face with three young men who looked to be up to no good. There was no other way to go. Jenna lowered her head and kept walking, praying they would just let her pass without incident. Like vultures, they began to circle her. "What have we here?" one of them asked, leering at her.

Jenna ignored him and kept walking. The man reached out and grabbed her by the arm. "I wouldn't," Jenna warned. Using her power crossed her mind, but she knew that she couldn't. Not after what Castiel had shown her. Not after the promise she had made.

The man's grip tightened painfully as he jostled her. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning in until she could see his yellowed teeth and smell the stink of his breath. This was the second time, she realized, that she had been trapped in an alley with three men who wished to do her harm. These men were human, however, not demons sent by the Prince of Hell. Somehow, that wasn't a comforting thought. In her life she'd seen enough of the horrors that one man could inflict upon another.

 _Not all monsters have claws, Red. Sometimes the thing that goes bump in the night is just a man_ , Crowley's words echoed in her head, sending shivers down her spine.

Instinctively Jenna struck out with her free arm, landing a solid blow under her assailant's left eye. In a heartbeat his friends jumped on her and the three of them wrestled her easily to the ground. At a little over five feet and barely over a hundred pounds, Jenna was no match for them. The lair of ice over the puddle where she landed cracked, and the ice-cold water beneath soaked through her jacket, but she didn't even notice. The whole world had faded from view except for her attackers.

The man, who was now sitting on her hips pinning her down with his weight, ran his knuckles down the side of her face. Jenna cringed, turning her head away from his touch. He leaned down, his mouth inches from her ear. "Don't fight and this will be easier on you," he whispered as he slid her dress up to her hips and began to unbutton his jeans.

Jenna screamed at the top of her lungs and was met by the sharp sting of his backhand. Pain seared through her jaw like a hot poker. This time she merely whimpered when he drew a switchblade and cut open her jacket and the dress she wore beneath. Goosebumps sprung up along her exposed flesh in reaction to the crisp, cold air.

"What's this?" he asked, catching sight of Crowley's pendent which lay against her chest. The man reached down and snatched it, breaking the chain around her neck.

"Crowley, please," Jenna whimpered, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks.

The man's nose wrinkled as he examined the pendent. "Who the hell is Crowley?" he asked.

"I am," came a voice from behind him.

Jenna would recognize that voice anywhere. Her heart swelled, she hadn't expected him to answer her plea. Not really. "You came," she gasped in shock and relief.

"You called, didn't you?" Crowley replied with a wink. Jenna began to cry, sending a fresh wave of tears rolling over her face. This time though it was tears of relief, tears of joy. She had needed him, and he had come like he had promised.

Crowley snapped his fingers. Once. Twice. The two men kneeling at either side of Jenna, helping to hold her down, exploded. Little bits of blood, flesh, and bone showered across Jenna and her assailant like someone had splattered them with a giant red paintbrush.

"What the hell are you?" The only remaining man exclaimed as he hurriedly climbed off of Jenna and scurried to his feet. Free from her assailant, Jenna pulled herself to her feet and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to cover her exposed skin.

Crowley grinned wickedly and let his eyes glow a solid red. By the man's reaction Jenna knew she wasn't the only one who could see it this time. "I'm the King of Hell," he replied.

The man stumbled backwards. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath as he brought his hand up and crossed himself.

"I'm afraid he can't save you," Crowley told him coldly. "Now, before I kill you, and I _am_ going to kill you, I want you to remember one thing," the demon said. "I'll be seeing you again very soon."

"I- " the man tried to speak, but Crowley made a fist cutting off his windpipe with his biokinetic powers. He clutched at his throat and his eyes began to bulge out of his head. A trickle of blood started from his nose, then from his eyes and his ears. Soon he was bleeding from every orifice on his body, until finally he collapsed dead on the ground.

For the first time Jenna began to really feel the cold. It seeped into her skin and down to her bones, and she shivered so hard that her teeth chattered. New York was cold in the winter, and she was soaked and half-naked. Crowley walked over to her and slid her wet and tattered jacket off her shoulders, then removed his own coat and wrapped it around her.

Jenna buried her face in the demon's chest and sobbed. If he hadn't come when he did, if he hadn't answered her call... she only sobbed louder. Crowley stood rigidly for a moment, not seeming to know what to do with the tiny human that clung to him. Finally he sighed and wrapped an arm around her. "Let's get you home, Red," he said quietly.

"What about Sam and Dean? And Cas?" Jenna asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

"I said if you needed me," Crowley reminded her. "I didn't say anything about dumb and dumber, or their feathered friend."

Jenna opened her mouth to protest, but she was slammed by a wave of nausea as Crowley teleported them away from New York City. If it wasn't for his arm around her she wouldn't have been able to stand. When finally the world stopped spinning, she opened her eyes and realized they were standing outside the front door to the Men of Letter's bunker. They were back in Lebanon, Kansas.

Jenna clutched the sides of Crowley's shirt for balance. The world may have stopped spinning, but her vision hadn't. Crowley glanced down and caught sight of the wedding band that encircled her ring finger. "What's this?" he asked, taking her hand in his and turning it over. "Been busy while I've been away haven't you? Who's the lucky man and why didn't I get an invitation to the party?"

If she didn't know better, Jenna would have said there was a hint of jealousy in his voice. She pulled her hand away and took the ring off, shoving it in her pocket. "It was just our cover. Dean and I were supposed to be Mr. and Mrs. Bonham," she muttered. The demon's posture stiffened. "Please Crowley, you can't leave them there," she begged.

"Of course I can," Crowley replied cooly.

"Crowley!" Jenna pleaded with the demon. "They have the Colt. If you want Malphas dead, you need them."

Without so much as a word, Crowley was gone once again. Whether he had gone to save the others or had simply disappeared once again, Jenna didn't know. She could only pray it was the former, as she went inside to wait.

About fifteen minutes passed. Jenna sat at the dining room table staring at her cell phone, willing it to ring. She'd already tried to call Sam and Dean a dozen times, but the circuit was overloaded and none of her calls went through. Then, just when she thought all was beyond hope and they were on their own, Crowley reappeared with both brothers and the angel in tow.

"Don't call me ungrateful," Dean growled. "But how did you even get us here?" he asked as he wrenched himself out of the demon's grasp. "You shouldn't be able to step foot inside this building without us lowering the defences. It's warded."

"A good magician never gives away his tricks," Crowley said as he turned and winked at Jenna.

Nervously Jenna swallowed and brought her hand up to where Crowley had slipped the pendant inside the pocket of his coat she was wearing. The only thing that was different from when Crowley had teleported her back and when he had teleported the brother's back was her. If she had unwittingly left the bunker open to the demon all this time without even knowing it Dean would be furious.

 


	20. WWIII

The road trip to acquire the Colt had not gone entirely as planned, but Team Free Will had come out of it unharmed, thanks to Crowley, who'd reluctantly gone back for the rest of them after rescuing Jenna. Now they had the Colt in their possession. With only five things in existence that it couldn't kill and seeing as it had worked against Azazel, another Prince of Hell, they felt confident that it was their ticket to killing Malphas and ending his crusade of terror.

Crowley glanced up as Jenna returned to the strategy table. She'd changed into some dry clothes and was wearing a pair of khakis and a loose army green tank top. Their eyes met and for a moment he forgot what he was saying. It didn't matter. None of it mattered, because in that moment he was simply relieved to see her standing there in one piece. For better or worse, he cared what happened to her and he'd stopped trying to make sense of it.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Hell's in a bit of disarray at the moment, but the majority of the demons are still loyal to me, or at least too afraid to do anything foolish." Crowley continued, returning his attention to the task at hand, though his gaze kept drifting back to the woman who'd sat herself across from him at the table. Though she wore no makeup, her clothes were plain, and her straight-red hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, he realized that he would rather have her than all the demons in their fake, gorgeous and busty meat suits who only pretended to want him because of his status. It was strange. That had never bothered him before as long as he got what he wanted, and he always got what he wanted.

"Well that's comforting," Dean replied dryly.

Crowley tore his eyes away from the woman long enough to shoot Dean a snide look. "If you don't want my help, just say so boys. I'll gladly leave you to it."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, but it was Castiel who spoke. "I don't think that would be wise," the angel said seriously. "Malphas was careless enough to let us find him once, I doubt he would be so careless a second time. We need  _all_  of us working together if we're going to locate him."

The ball was in Dean's court and Crowley waited gloatingly. If the hunter wanted his help he was going to have to ask for it, and Crowley knew how much Dean hated asking for his help. "Fine," Dean grumbled. "But once Malphas is dead-"

"I know, I know," Crowley cut him off, rolling his eyes. "We go back to trying to kill each other. For old time's sake." By now though, he knew as much as the Winchesters did that it was all just posturing. Neither had any real interest in killing the other. Even if they were still technically enemies, he had developed a certain fondness for the brothers, though he would never admit it.

Sam grunted.

"I'll follow up on some leads," Crowley offered. After all, he had the resources and after his exhaustive reminders about who they worked for and what happened if they betrayed him he doubted any would be too quick at this point to defect to the other side. Someone, somewhere was bound to turn up something. "You boys see what you can come up with, and we'll all share notes. It'll be just like high school."

"Did you ever even go to high school?" Sam retorted, his nose wrinkled with the obvious disdain he felt for the demon.

Of course he hadn't. Even had his unloving mother seen it fit to send him to school, basic education was lacking in much of the rural and highland areas of Scotland in the 1600's. "Missing the point, Moose," Crowley snapped back. "Besides, it doesn't seem to have done you morons any good. You're still, well, morons."

"Us morons are the best chance you've got," Dean reminded him.

The best chance he'd had was Jenna, he thought bitterly. She was The Thing That Should Not Be and she could have removed Malphas from existence and he still did not understand why she had backed out at the last moment. One of these days when he had her alone he would have to ask her what Castiel had shown her that changed her mind. Next to her though, Dean was right, Crowley admitted begrudgingly to himself. Whatever world-ending catastrophe loomed on the horizon, somehow it always seemed to be the Winchesters that defied the odds and saved the day.

"Well boys, my work here is done. I think I'll take my leave and see what I can dig up," Crowley told them as he stood and pushed his chair back from the strategy table. "I'd say I'd leave the rest in your capable hands, but well… try not to prove too inept. After all, all of humanity depends on you. No pressure."

Before he left, Crowley stole one last look at Jenna. The entire time she had not said a word, she had just sat quietly and listened, all the while watching him. Now though, she jumped to her feet. "Wait!" she begged, and Crowley stopped instantly at the sound of her voice.

* * *

Jenna could feel the others staring at her like a drill boring into her soul. It didn't matter. She couldn't let him leave. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, her eyes fixed on his. Crowley cocked his head to side as if to say go ahead. "In private," she added.

"I don't think-" Dean started. Of course she'd known he would object. If it hadn't been him, it would have been Sam, or Cas. Though they worked with the demon when circumstances required, they didn't fully trust him. They would never be able to fully trust him. He was the King of Hell.

"Of course," Crowley replied, cutting Dean off before he could finish formulating his objection. "Where would you like to go? I have a nice little place in the Bahamas…"

After their most recent teleportation, Jenna's stomach was still rolling like a dingy left adrift on the stormy seas. She shook her head. "I was thinking down the hall would be far enough," she admitted, "and I'll walk." It wasn't unlike Crowley to teleport even short distances, though she supposed it didn't effect him the same way it did her. Even the others did not seem to have such a violently unpleasant reaction to it.

"Suit yourself. Lead the way, love," Crowley gestured for her to go ahead. As they passed, the demon glanced behind him and smirked at Dean. The hunter's hands balled into fists and his face twitched but he said nothing more about it.

"You know, usually you'd buy me a drink first," Crowley teased as they stepped into Jenna's bedroom and he eased the door closed behind him.

"I think you have that the wrong way around. Wouldn't you be the one buying me a drink?" Jenna retorted, a pink blush creeping onto her cheeks that made her thankful for the dim lighting cast by the lamp on the bedside table.

Crowley shrugged and went to shove his hands in his overcoat pockets only to find it still missing. It lay folded on the corner of Jenna's bed. "What can I say, I'm an equal opportunist," he mused, arching an eyebrow at her instead. "So what did you want to talk about that you couldn't say in front of the Hardy Boys and their pet angel?"

What didn't she want to talk to him about? The truth was there were so many things she needed to ask him, things she needed to tell him, that she didn't know where to start. Why had he disappeared without a word after the incident in the abandoned warehouse parking lot? Was he behind the email that led them to the Colt? Why had he come to save her? Was she wrong thinking there was something more between them?

"I-," Jenna looked down at her hands and tugged awkwardly at the edge of her shirt. "I wanted to thank you."

Right. Way to go. Why couldn't she just tell him that she cared about him and that she had missed him. That it had hurt terribly when he'd disappeared without so much as a word and she desperately needed to know if he felt anything at all for-

"Just looking after my investment," Crowley replied and her train of thought came to an abrupt halt that nearly knocked her off her feet.

"Your investment?" Jenna repeated once she regained her bearings somewhat. "Is that all I am to you? A contract?" Her eyes darted around his. No, no, no this wasn't how this was supposed to go. With every word that escaped her lips she could feel the crushing rejection and the panic building up, and her voice followed its pitch rising higher and higher. "Is that the only reason why you came when I called? Is that why you gave me the pendant? Or was that just so you would have access to-"

Before she could utter another word Crowley's lips were on hers, bruising, crushing, needy. Just like her. And oh god, he was kissing her, and this wasn't just some business transaction, and, and, and… Jenna's mind reeled and then faded out as she let the feel of his mouth on hers swallow her whole. Whatever urge she had to continue her tirade and shout at him melted away and was replaced by a need to be near him, to touch him, to feel him.

"So, is that a no?" Jenna asked sheepishly after they parted. Her stomach felt like it was in her throat.

"That's a  _it's complicated_ ," Crowley told her, looking a little surprised by his own impulsive action. Of course it was complicated. It was complicated for her too. He was a demon and she was human. He was the King of Hell and she was The Thing That Should Not Be. He held a contract on her soul.

"I'll take complicated," Jenna breathed as she stretched up onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Her hand splayed across his chest as she looked up at him, biting her lip expectantly. "Well, aren't you going to kiss me again?" She asked quietly.

Crowley wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her hips into his. A little gasp escaped her lips. "Is that what you want, Red?" He growled in his incredibly sexy accent as he stared down into her blue eyes.

"Yes," Jenna breathed somewhat shakily.

Crowley bent down and locked his lips on hers once more. Their lips parted and he explored her mouth with his tongue twirling it around her own and massaging them together. There was a neediness, not just from her. She felt it from him too.

Tentatively Jenna gently bit his lower lip earning a low moan from the demon, who responded by cupping her buttocks in his hands and lifting her up so that they were eye to eye. Instinctively, Jenna wrapped her arms around Crowley's neck and her legs around his hips for support pulling her tight against him. "Oh, Red," he groaned, and she could feel him getting hard.

Crowley carried her through the room, deftly pulling her shirt off over her head with one hand, while he held her with the other. His fingers made quick work of the clasp of her bra, letting her small breasts spill out.

Her heart must have skipped several beats. Suddenly she was so exposed, and he was a demon, and-

Crowley's lips found hers again, and he thrust his tongue more forcefully into her mouth, before he pulled away and tossed her onto her back on the bed. Jenna landed with a soft thud on the mattress. Her blue eyes stared up at him. There was a flash of red through his eyes as they lapped greedily over her flesh, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She wasn't going to need a discovery channel for the supernatural any longer.

Crowley slowly undressed himself, undoing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging out if it, baring his arms and chest. Her eyes trailed hungrily over his skin filling her with a deep yearning to feel it pressed against her own. Next Crowley kicked off his dress shoes and dropped his pants and boxers into a pile on the floor. A little gasp escaped Jenna's lips as she eyed the length of him. The demon was certainly well-endowed.

Jenna lifted her hips as Crowley bent down and slipped off her pants, tossing them aside. They hit the lamp on the bedside table, sending it crashing to the floor. The two of them didn't even notice, they were so wrapped up in their need for each other.

Crowley climbed onto the bed, kneeling overtop of her. Another flash of red shot through his eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Please, Crowley" Jenna mewled, arching her back and raising her hips to meet him as the craving for his touch threatened to overwhelm her.

Suddenly the door was thrown open. A tall, broad figure burst through the opening, poised and ready to fight. "Sam, what the hell?" Jenna shouted in shock as she gathered the sheets up around her. Only her collar bones and shoulders were visible, but she still felt terribly exposed in front of the youngest Winchester.

"I- I-," Sam stammered as he turned his head away and brought a hand up to try and block out the image painted in all its explicit details before him.

While Jenna hid behind the sheets, Crowley sat unabashedly on the bed, stark naked. The demon seemed neither concerned nor bothered by the fact that every inch of him was visible to Sam. In fact, if anything, he seemed to derive some twisted pleasure out of making the hunter uncomfortable. "What's wrong, Moose?" Crowley asked, arching an eyebrow. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I- I was coming to get you," Sam explained to Jenna, trying unsuccessfully to ignore Crowley, "when I heard a crash. I thought something might be wrong. I thought you might be in trouble."

Now of all times, Jenna lamented in her head. Her skin was still burning with the desire for Crowley's touch. There was an ache deep inside of her to be filled that left her frustrated and resenting the younger brother's timing.

"Wrong, yes, but oh so very right," Crowley replied wickedly, a devious grin spreading across his lips. His lips that moments ago had been on hers. His lips that tasted salty and burned against her skin. "Now, what do you say you put that thing away," he added, gesturing to the handgun that hung limply in Sam's other hand.

"You first," Sam retorted, gesturing to Crowley's nether regions. He seemed flustered and embarrassed by the situation, yet still he stayed glued in the doorway.

Crowley smirked. "Feeling a little inadequate are we Moose?"

"Crowley, I swear to God…" Sam growled through gritted teeth.

Enough. "Guys!" Jenna cut across them. She didn't like feeling like she was caught in the middle of their pissing match. It was bad enough when Dean and Crowley went at it, but now, now wasn't the time or the place. "Look Sam, everything's fine. Just get out."

"Jenna. Everything's not fine. This,  _this_  is not fine," Sam said, gesturing wildly with his hands. "I mean,  _Crowley_?" he asked in shock and disgust. The demon shot Sam a withering glare.

How dare he! Who was he to judge? Maybe Crowley was a demon, but so what? She thought defensively.

"You," Sam pointed at Jenna, "We need to talk. There's been a development. And you," Sam gestured at Crowley, still keeping his eyes averted from his nakedness, "get dressed, would you."

The demon snickered and Sam turned and left. Crowley turned to Jenna and leaned his forehead against hers. "Next time you want to  _talk_ , might I suggest locking the door," he told her. A snort that was half laugh half sob escaped Jenna's lips. It's not like this is what she had planned. At least there might be a next time, she consoled herself, and at least now she knew. Complicated as it might be, there was at least something between them.

* * *

When Crowley and Jenna joined the others back at the strategy table, there was a palpable awkwardness in the air. While no one mentioned the elephant looming in the room, the disapproving look from Dean told her that his younger brother had told him what he had walked in on.

"Well go on," Crowley gestured impatiently not even bothering to pull out a chair and sit down. "Do tell what was  _so_  important."

Sam brought up the news on one of the large monitors. Scene after scene after scene of death and destruction filled the screen. There was the Statue of Liberty left in a smoldering pile of ruin, which they had already seen back in New York. There was a city reduced to rubble. Then there were the dead and the injured. Americans caught in the terrorist attack, bloodied and bruised, bones crushed by the falling debris, limbs missing, wounds gaping open. Jenna knew that whatever country was blamed for Malphas's attack wouldn't stand a chance. So many innocent lives would be lost. Then her eyes fell to the bottom of the screen and she realized it was so much worse than she could have imagined. The scrolling caption read:  _US retaliation for Statue of Liberty attack marks start of World War 3 as other nations take sides._

"So what do we do now?" Jenna asked anxiously. They weren't ready. Not for this. How did the brothers do this week after week, month after month, year after year. Staring almost certain defeat in the face with the whole weight of the fate of humanity on their shoulders.

"Same as before," Dean assured her. "We find that bastard, and we kill him."

"Crowley, you said you had some leads to follow up on?" Sam asked. The demon nodded. "Well, we don't have any time to waste."

Jenna looked at Crowley, a sad expression on her face. Even now, she couldn't tell him how she felt. Not with her words, and if he was leaving again, she wouldn't have the chance to show him.

"Well, it's been fun," he said, winking at Jenna. "Toodles, boys." Just like that he was gone. Again. And Jenna's heart ached.

"He better come back with something and not just fucked off," Dean grumbled.

"He will," Jenna replied with certainty. She knew she still didn't have any proof, but deep down she knew it was Crowley who had given them the location of the Colt, and in her gut she knew that he would pull through again. Besides, even if he didn't give a damn about the lot of them, he still cared about his Kingdom. He needed allies to take down the Prince of Hell, and they had the Colt.

The rest of them began to file out of the room. Dean and Jenna were the last to leave. As she passed by the hunter, he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her aside. "Jenna-"

She spun around on the hunter, knowing exactly what he was about to say. "I'm a grown woman," she cut across him. "I don't need your patronizing, so save it."

Dean's eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden burst of ferocity from the typically meek and quiet woman, but he stood his ground. "You and Crowley, it's not going to end well," he warned her. "He's the King of Hell, don't forget that."

"He's different," Jenna insisted, shifting her weight uncomfortably. It wasn't like these very thoughts hadn't crossed her mind a thousand times, but she couldn't help what she felt. She was drawn to Crowley like a moth to the flame.

"The trials changed him," Dean agreed. "But he's still a demon."

"I can  _see_  what he is," Jenna reminded him, sharply.

Dean shook his head and exhaled heavily. "Your little deal with him, he has to answer your questions, right?" Jenna nodded. "Tell me, have you ever asked him about Hell? Have you ever asked him what happens to your soul if you don't uphold your end of the deal?"

"It belongs to-"

Dean snorted. "No, not that. You know what I meant. You know because you asked me about it once, after Castiel showed you the truth and you refused to remove Malphas from existence. When you believed you were doomed to Hell you asked me tell you what it was like," Dean reminded her. "Ask Crowley. Ask him exactly what will happen to your soul in Hell and see if you still feel the same way about him."


	21. A Fortuitous Turn of Events

Everything was falling apart in the world. Malphas had orchestrated the start of World War Three and it was chaos and destruction. The government, in response to continued terror attacks and civil unrest, had enacted martial law and curfews were in place in most cities. The worst part was it had all happened so fast that no one was ready for it.

Still, amongst it all Jenna found her thoughts frequently going back to Crowley and their almost night together. The passion, the lust, the need. When his lips and his hands had been on her, she had been lost in him. It's complicated, he'd said. And it was complicated as Dean had so aptly pointed out and she'd had lots of time to think about it since then, but when Crowley kissed her, when he touched her it all felt so simple. Right now though, she had to focus.

It had turned into a seemingly endless cycle. Either alone, or with Sam, Dean and Cas when they happened to be back at the bunker, Jenna scoured every available news source for any sign of Malphas. When she found something, she'd call one of the local hunters from Dean's contact list to follow up on it. If there was no one nearby, then the others went and checked it out themselves. Tonight they were a couple of cities over in Wichita looking into the sudden disappearance of a multitude of people from the local homeless shelter. It wasn't much to go on, but perhaps the Prince of Hell was needing meat suits for his demonic army, and who better to blend in and lay in wait on the streets than those who were already there.

Alone in the bunker, Jenna sighed, and hit dial on the cellphone Dean had left her. "Hi, is this Bill?" she asked as a man answered on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," came the gruff reply. "Who's this?"

"My name's Jenna. I'm working a case with Sam and Dean Winchester," she explained. It seemed that dropping the Winchester's name tended to get her taken more seriously. Something she'd learned after being rudely hung up on several times.

There was a drawn out silence on the other end. "Well, go on then," Bill drawled.

Jenna briefly explained the bare necessities: that they were hunting a Prince of Hell and since they didn't know where he was they were following up on any and every possible lead. "There's been a rash of cattle mutilations in your neck of the woods. I was wondering if you could-"

"Just a vamp," Bill cut her off.

"A vamp?" Jenna parroted back. That didn't make sense, at least not from her limited knowledge. Vampires fed on humans.

"Yup," Bill smacked his lips as he pronounced the word. "Lone vamp, recently turned. Was trying to feed on cows instead of humans. Dumb fuck. Can't say I'm sad about it. Better some dead cows than dead people." Jenna could picture him shaking his head as he talked into the phone.

"But, why would he do that?" Jenna asked, trying to make sense of this world that was still all so new to her.

"My best guess?" Bill replied. "Was he couldn't accept what he'd become. Havin' a hard time adjustin', ya know? It happens sometimes, but in the end, a vamp's a vamp. They all end up the same. Don't worry though. I took care of it."

"Took care of it?" Jenna repeated, a sick feeling pooling in her stomach. Maybe it was because of what she was, because she too had been hunted when she had tried so hard to do right, but she hoped the hunter didn't mean what she thought he did.

"Lopped the head off the guy," Bill replied casually and Jenna's heart sunk. She barely heard him as he finished speaking. "Cleared out the nest of the one that turned him too."

"Right…" Jenna trailed off. "Okay. Well, if you see or hear of anything-"

"Yeah. I'll call."

"Thanks for your help," Jenna repeated the words that had become so rote, then she pressed end call. An uncomfortable feeling had settled in her chest. Even if Sam and Dean accepted her for what she was, would the rest of the hunting community? Or would they come for her too once the word got out, even though she wasn't hurting anyone?

Shaking the thoughts away Jenna picked up a sharpie and crossed out the news article. There was nothing else that stood out in the day's paper. Really she should check Google, one last time, but she rubbed sleepily at her burning eyes, yawned and glanced at the clock. It was nearing midnight. Slowly she rose to her feet and made her way back to her bedroom.

Tomorrow would be another day. Perhaps it would turn up something, she told herself. Still the all too familiar feeling of disappointment and despair resided always just under the surface. The world was going down in flames. What if they couldn't stop it?

Jenna walked across her dimly lit room and pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it in the laundry hamper then she reached behind her and went to unclasp her bra. Something in her peripheral vision caught her attention and she stopped and spun around to find Crowley standing in her doorway, his hands shoved into his coat pockets.

Jenna swallowed reflexively. "Crowley," she croaked her voice cracking ever so slightly as the demon took a step towards her. It had been two weeks since she had seen him, two weeks since Dean had pulled her aside and told her to ask him about Hell. Two weeks was a long time to sit and stew and ponder those sorts of thoughts, and now, standing half naked before the King of Hell, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Red," Crowley returned the greeting. The door clicked shut and locked behind him. Was her mind playing tricks on her or did he look a little darker and more dangerous than she remembered?

 _Ask him_ , Dean's voice replayed in her head. Jenna turned abruptly and cleared her throat. "Did you find anything?" She asked.

"Not yet," Crowley admitted, closer now. If there had been any footsteps, she could not hear them over the pounding of her heart. Although, she would not put it past the demon to teleport even such a short distance as he often did.

_Ask him._

Jenna looked down at the floor and shifted her feet awkwardly. "If you haven't found anything, what are you doing here?" she asked, regretting the words as soon as they'd spilled from her mouth. This was not how she had wanted things to be between her and Crowley.

"What? Can't I just drop in for a visit, love?" the demon hissed in her ear, suddenly mere inches behind her. Jenna's head shot up and her back stiffened. Crowley trailed his fingers down her neck to where it met her shoulder. "Why so tense?" he asked as he leaned in, his breath hot against her skin, and placed a couple of soft kisses before digging his thumb into the muscle with just the right amount of pressure. Jenna groaned as he made slow circles.

 _Ask him_.

"It's just been a long day," Jenna told him. It was a half-truth, but it wasn't entirely a lie. "A long week even."

"Mmm," Crowley hummed against her neck as he alternated between kissing her skin and deftly manipulating her aching muscles with his hand. "Perhaps I can make this day a little better," he breathed against her skin.

Eyes closed, Jenna leaned back into the demon and he wrapped his free arm around her cupping her breast in his hand as he continued to work her sore muscle. Everything faded away except for the feeling of Crowley's mouth and hands on her. Dean's words so quickly forgotten. This was bliss, and Jenna moaned as the pleasure sent shivers down her spine with every kiss and every stroke of his thumb.

A low noise rumbled from Crowley's throat. "Keeping making noises like that love and I'm not going to be able to wait," he told her.

"Then don't."

Crowley growled and spun Jenna around to face him. The way he looked at her: the pure lust and the red that flashed through his eyes. He wanted her. Right here. Right now. She wanted him too, needed him so desperately. The way she looked at him: as if he was a god and she was putty in his hands. The things she would do for him if only he asked.

With a wicked grin, Crowley snapped his fingers and Jenna's clothes disappeared. "That's cheating!" she protested.

Crowley walked into her until he had Jenna's back pressed firmly against the wall. He pinned her wrists above her head. "Cheating is it?" He hissed. "I'm a demon, love. No one said I had to play fair." He nipped at her neck and jaw eliciting another pleasured moan from Jenna as she squirmed in his grasp.

Before she knew it, Crowley's lips were on hers kissing her aggressively, as his tongue thrust forcefully into her mouth. The possessiveness and need with which he claimed her, left her panting when he finally pulled away. Jenna barely had time to breathe before his lips sealed around hers once more. His hands and slipped from her wrists and were now fisted in her straight, red hair. Slowly, tentatively she brought her arms down and draped them around his neck pulling him closer to her.

"Crowley, please," Jenna begged when their lips parted.

The demon inhaled sharply. "Please what? Tell me what you want, Red," he whispered in her ear his body pressed tight against hers.

"I want you," Jenna told him.

"Tell me what you want," Crowley repeated as he drew back, his eyes lustfully drinking in her exposed skin.

"I-" Jenna blushed a bit, and looked down. It had been a long time since she'd been with a man. Not that Crowley was exactly human.

The King of Hell caught her chin in his hand and tutted as he lifted it so she had to meet his gaze. "Demon, remember," he said gesturing to himself. "There is absolutely nothing you could ever say to me that you need feel embarrassed about, love."

Jenna swallowed, fighting to keep her insecurities and inhibitions in check. "I- I want to feel you inside of me," she admitted, the blush deepening across her freckled cheeks.

"I think that can be arranged," Crowley teased before he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. The demon climbed on top of her and Jenna's heart beat even faster in anticipation. How many times had she fantasized about this since the night they had been interrupted? How many times had she longed for the touch of his skin against hers? How many times had she closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to be with him?

Jenna's hands trembled as she reached up and began to unbutton his suit jacket. Crowley raised a hand, ready to snap his fingers and vanish his clothes away like he had hers, but Jenna stopped him by placing her hand over his. "Let me," she whispered and he sat back and watched transfixed as she slowly undressed him, taking her time despite the fact that she was practically trembling with her need for him.

Jenna knelt on the bed, in front of Crowley, and slipped his suit jacket from his shoulders, before undoing his tie. One by one she undid the buttons of his dress shirt, exposing his skin beneath. She let her hands trail over his shoulders and arms as she removed it noting how warm he was. The demon always radiated heat. Once Crowley was shirtless, Jenna let her glacial blue wander greedily over every inch of his stocky frame as she committed it to memory. Every freckle, every mole, every detail.

"Like what you see, love?" Crowley teased as the seconds dragged on.

"Very much," Jenna replied before she let her eyes sink from his sturdy chest over his belly to the trail of hair that disappeared under the waistband of his pants. Jenna licked her lips as she thought about what waited beneath.

"Do you know what you do to me?" Crowley growled, and in an instant Jenna found herself on her back, pinned under the demon as he undid his pants and nipped at her jaw.  _The same thing you do to me_ , Jenna thought as she threw her head back into the bed and closed her eyes, lost in the pleasure of his touch.

A gasp escaped Jenna's lips. She had wondered what it would be like. Physically he had appeared every bit human, but being with Crowley wasn't like being with a man. It was so much more. The heat and the power that radiated from him practically pulsed through her veins. Having him inside of her was so all-consuming and overwhelming that she didn't even hear herself whimper his name. The pleasure: it was ecstasy. And as their bodies moved together time seemed to all but disappear.

"My god," Jenna breathed when her body teetering on the brink of coming undone.

"Not quite, darling," Crowley's voice caressed her ear. "Your King."

"My King," Jenna repeated, earning a low groan from the demon. The sound of his pleasure was enough to send her over the edge.

Crowley followed soon behind and when he was finished he let his body collapse on top of hers, before rolling off and grinning at her from where he lay beside her in the bed. "Is that better now, love?"

Jenna shifted to her side and stared mesmerised at the demon that lay naked in her bed. "Much," she replied, still lost in her pleasure. Dean's warning all but forgotten, she could barely recall why her day had needed to be made better in the first place.

Crowley lazily traced a finger along her side to where her waist dipped. "So tell me," he asked in that casual, offhand tone that implied it was unimportant but told her that it most certainly was important to him. "Why are you here alone? Where's the rest of the Brady Bunch?"

Jenna sighed. It was the equivalent of talking about work, and Jenna didn't want to think about Malphas and the whole end-of-the-world thing. "They're out checking on some leads and didn't make it back before curfew," she informed him, not offering to elaborate more. Couldn't they talk about something else? Or just not talk at all. Jenna could lay there looking at Crowley all night and never get bored.

"That doesn't answer my question," Crowley pointed out, his eyes fixed intensely on hers. "Why aren't you with them?"

It seemed that the magic moment was over. Jenna brought herself up into a sitting position and shrugged. "I'm not a hunter," she answered quietly. Her eyes studied the duvet as if it were the Mona Lisa, as she awkwardly avoided Crowley's gaze. "I guess after what happened last time they thought it would be safer for me here. Doing research."

Crowley scoffed. "Don't sell yourself short, Red. You're more than capable. I've seen you." Compliments from Crowley weren't a common occurrence, and Jenna smiled. It meant a lot coming from him. "Though that does bring me to another question," he told her and Jenna felt her chest tighten every so slightly.

"What's that?" she asked reluctantly.

"In New York," Crowley started, and Jenna knew she didn't like where this was going. "Those men that attacked you, you could have destroyed them easily, but you didn't," he told her. "Why not?"

"I couldn't," Jenna croaked, remembering the night in vivid detail. If Crowley hadn't shown up when he had… she shuddered.

Crowley pulled himself up, so he was sitting facing her. "Don't be silly, love. Of course you could."

"It's not that I couldn't, it's just that I  _couldn't_ ," Jenna tried, failing miserably to make any more sense.

"Sorry Red, but you're going to have to try that one again," Crowley told her.

Jenna took a long deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts. "It's not that I didn't want to, or even that I wasn't capable of it," Jenna explained slowly. "It's that I just couldn't. Not after what Castiel showed me. No matter how much I wanted to, no matter what was going to happen to me…" She trembled, remembering how helpless she had been despite her power.

Crowley cursed under his breath. "What exactly did that blasted angel show you?" he demanded.

Jenna explained it all in detail. The dreams that she had been having ever since she removed the first man from existence. How she had thought that it was the future that could have been, but that it was actually what had become. Crowley had been right when he'd told her not to think of it as killing them, but rather making them cease to exist. What he hadn't told her, was that with that she was also changing reality.

"Had you known?" Jenna asked.

"No."

Jenna swallowed and nodded her head. She believed him. She had no reason not to. So she continued, explaining to him about the holes that she was tearing in the very fabric of creation every time she used her power. She explained about how the magnitude of change if she had used it on Malphas may have been enough to tear creation apart completely. It was the first time, she realized, that they had discussed the events of that day at the abandoned warehouse.

"You could have told me," Crowley told her.

"You could have asked."

Crowley reached out and brushed his knuckles along her cheek, before taking her face in his hand and fixing her with gaze. "Holes or no holes, next time some useless maggot tries to hurt you, you destroy them. Do you understand?"

"I can't," Jenna protested, as much as she wished he was right. "I could destroy creation."

"I don't give a damn about creation!" Crowley half-shouted. A silence fell over them as the two stared at each other, the implications of what he'd just said stretched out between them. The demon seemed as shocked and surprised by his sudden outburst as Jenna.

* * *

As the days rolled on, Crowley's visits became more frequent. The fate of his kingdom was precarious at best. There was a civil war going on for Hell and every day that passed Malphas garnered more support. The executions that once kept his demon minions in line no longer seemed enough to quell the tide. Yet here he was, placing his bets on this lumbering pile of flannel and their pet angel.

Then there was the woman. Once he had believed she would be his greatest weapon. Now, in light of what she had told him, he realized that her power was useless to him. No matter how many times he had tried to convince himself to end it and collect on his contract, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even if he didn't want to, he  _cared_ about her. There was no point in lying to himself. As complicated as it was, he found peace with her, solace with her, for the first time since he had become a demon, perhaps for the first time ever.

Crowley sauntered into the dining room, dressed in a big, fluffy black housecoat and a pair of slippers. Sam looked up from where he was sitting at the table drinking coffee and huffed. "So, he's just what… he's just staying here now?" he asked his brother incredulously.

Dean grumbled.

"It would appear so," Castiel answered as he sat himself next to Dean.

From across the room Crowley smirked at Sam and Dean knowing full well under the circumstances there was little they could do about it and relishing the opportunity to make their lives a little more miserable. " _You're a demon, it's not like you need to sleep,"_  Dean had griped days earlier when he took Crowley aside. " _Look, she's hot, you want to have some fun, I get it. I don't like it, but I get it. Can't you, just you know, leave when you're done?"_  It wasn't like Dean made it out to be, though Crowley made no attempt to correct him. He'd just smiled a smug, self-satisfied grin and vowed to spend the night more often just to get under the hunter's skin. It seemed to be working. Sam, predictably, glared at him, while his brother just shook his head and grumbled some more into his coffee cup. Crowley chuckled

In the kitchen, Jenna was at the stove making breakfast. French toast, fried ham, and fresh fruit. It smelled divine. It didn't surprise him that the woman had once wanted to be a cook, she was a natural. As Jenna plated the first two dishes, Crowley snuck up behind her and swept her hair back, brushing the side of her neck with his knuckles. Jenna jumped, then realizing it was him relaxed and leaned back. It always took him aback how she could know what he was and trust him like that. Being with her was reason enough to keep coming back. Tormenting the Winchesters was just a side bonus.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Jenna asked as Crowley wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pulled her tight against him.

"Demon, love. Remember?" Crowley breathed against the side of her neck. Jenna leaned back into him more and sighed with a hint of disappointment. "Don't worry, there's other things you can do for me," he whispered suggestively before planting a kiss just below her jaw.

"Mmm," Jenna hummed as she closed her eyes and let herself melt in his arms.

"Oh come on!" Dean protested, his face scrunched in disgust. "Get a room you two."

"Technically, Jenna already has a room," Castiel pointed out.

Crowley spun Jenna around and grabbed her hand. "I think Squirrel and Feathers are onto something," he teased, a wicked grin on his face. "Come on."

Much to his disappointment, Jenna shook her head and pulled her hand away. "We've got things to do," she reminded him as she grabbed the two plates of food and deposited them in front of Sam and Dean.

"Like what?"

"Like finding Malphas."

"Jenna's right," Castiel agreed. "We have the Colt, but we still have no idea where Malphas is hiding."

Crowley's mood soured at the mention of the Prince of Hell, and he plopped himself into a chair across from Castiel. The back and forth battle he and Malphas had been having for the support of his demons and rule over Hell had been taxing, and quite frankly, he was sick of it. Demons had no loyalty. If it wasn't for the power that being King of Hell afforded him, he could care less about the useless lot of them.

Jenna plated her own breakfast and joined them, seating herself next to Crowley and across from Dean. Her hand reached under the table and squeezed his thigh. The demon cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at her and she grinned before removing her hands and folding them on top of the table.

"So I take it you still haven't asked him," Dean commented dryly.

"Asked me what?" Crowley asked. He didn't miss the subtle way that Jenna's body tensed, or the pointed glare that she shot in Dean's direction.

"Nothing," Jenna answered a little too quickly.

The demon would have to be blind and dumb to believe that it was nothing. His eyes narrowed as he looked from Dean and back to Jenna again. "Red," Crowley repeated firmly. "Asked me what?"

"Can we please not do this right now?" Jenna pleaded, an almost panicked look on her face. "Can we just eat, and then maybe try and find Malphas? It's not important," she tried to assure him. "We can talk about it later, okay?"

"Right," Dean scoffed, swallowing back a bite of fried ham. "Then why don't you just ask him?"

Jenna hadn't even touched her food. "Not helping, Dean," she growled.

The muscles in Crowley's face twitched as he struggled to maintain his composure. Normally this is where he would slam his hands down on the table and demand answers, and if they didn't give them to him he'd strap them down and start cutting until they did. Except this was Jenna, not one of his demons, not a monster or some nobody hunter. Of course, he could always squeeze Dean for the answers, but somehow he doubted that would go over very well with the woman either. People tended not to like it when you tortured their friends.

"We'll talk later," Crowley told Jenna sharply, though his eyes remained glued to Dean. Whatever the hunter was up to, he would not let him get away with it. Jenna belonged to him. He wouldn't let Dean take her away, he thought possessively. No one would take her away from him.

After Sam had finished his breakfast he flipped open his laptop to check the morning news. The routine had become so boring. Every day the hunters and their angel grasped at straws trying to make some connection to the Prince of Hell, and then scampered off only to return dejected and empty handed. Just like the so-called mysterious disappearance of a shockingly large number of people from a homeless shelter in Wichita. It had turned out to be nothing more than a deranged serial killer. Nothing mysterious or supernatural at all. Yet round and round they went on this merry-go-round expecting the results to somehow be different.

Today though, was different. The expression on Crowley's face was one of slack-jawed surprise when Sam spun his screen around for the others to see. No doubt whining about the mass casualties being reported in the most recent bombing in New York, but he wasn't paying attention to what the bumbling giant was saying. His eyes were glued to the general being hounded by the press.

"You've done it, Moose," Crowley exclaimed.

"Done what?" Sam asked, a perplexed look on his face.

Crowley shook his head of course the big oaf would need it spelled out for him. "Found Malphas," he explained. Suddenly everyone was staring at him with rapt attention. "Right there," Crowley pointed at the screen. "Right under our noses."

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean muttered. "We've been chasing every freakin' lead, no matter how unlikely, for weeks and now he just falls into our laps?"

"It's too easy," Sam argued, rubbing at his temple.

Jenna was shaking her head slowly. "It's got to be a trap."

"That would seem likely," Castiel agreed.

"Of course it's a bloody trap!" Crowley half-shouted. "But the fact remains, we've found Malphas, and trap or not this may be the only chance you've got."

"We've got," Dean corrected, his eyes narrowed at the demon.

"Right," Crowley replied sardonically.

It was either fortuitous or a set up, but either way it didn't matter. They had found Malphas and they had to act before they lost him again. Naturally, Crowley had no intentions of letting himself, or the woman, fall in harm's way and planned to let the Winchesters and their angel do his dirty work. Soon enough, he thought pleasantly, all of this non-sense would be over and he could go back to ruling Hell instead of fighting for it.


	22. Fort Leavenworth

Malphas was wearing a high ranking general at the Fort Leavenworth military base as a meat suit. They'd just happened to catch a glimpse of him on a news broadcast after weeks of searching and coming up empty handed. It was either fortuitous or a set up, but either way it didn't matter. For the moment, they knew where he was and they had to act before they lost him again. They might not get another chance.

"I don't see why you insist on bringing that bucket of bolts," Crowley complained. He and Dean had been going back and forth on this point for some time now. Crowley felt it prudent to save time and teleport the lot of them to Fort Leavenworth, while Dean wanted to drive. Jenna had to admit, she'd rather drive if for no other reason than to save her stomach from being flipped inside out.

"Baby isn't some bucket of bolts!" Dean protested.

"My god, you've named the thing?" Crowley asked, his face contorted in disgust.

Dean shot him a look that said of course, why wouldn't he have. "That's not the point. If something happens to you, we're going to need a backup plan," the hunter insisted. His heels were dug in. This wasn't something that was up for debate.

Crowley sighed and shook his head dismissively. "You forget who you're talking to boys.I'm not about to let anything happen to myself. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's staying intact. But have it your way: drive to Fort Leavenworth and I'll take things from there."

"Fine," Dean replied. "We will."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Fine."

With a great, exaggerated huff, Dean turned and stormed towards the door. Jenna had to scuttle out of the way. Sam shot her an apologetic look before grabbing the duffle bag that contained the rest of their gear not already loaded in the Impala and following Dean. Castiel awkwardly tailed behind.

Crowley turned to Jenna. "Come on love, we've got three to four hours before those lumbering piles of flannel get to their destination, why don't we have a little fun," he suggested as he winked at her.

A little fun with Crowley sounded wonderful, and Jenna couldn't deny that she was tempted. The whole end-of-the-world-weighing-on-their-shoulders-thing was depressing and draining and Crowley had a way of making her forget all of that. It was so easy to get lost in him and in the pleasure he gave her. But, as much as she would like to spend some quality time with the King of Hell, this was what they had all been working towards and she had to be there. "I'm going with them," she told him reluctantly.

Crowley pretended to pout for a moment before shooing her a long. "You're about to miss your ride," he warned.

It seemed too easy, but Jenna gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning heel and jogging to catch up with the others. "I'll see you soon," she called over her shoulder.

* * *

Dean stood under a tree tapping his foot impatiently where they'd parked about half a mile from the Fort Leavenworth military base. Sam was checking and rechecking their gear, while Cas and Jenna waited in the car. Crowley was supposed to meet them here.

"You rang?" a familiar voice called. Dean turned to find Crowley presenting himself with a devilish grin.

"You're late," Dean commented dryly.

"Yes, well…" the demon trailed off when he caught sight of Jenna who had climbed out of the car to greet him. Dean could have gagged. What she saw in Crowley, he didn't know. The demon cleared his throat. "Everyone ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Sam commented. The others nodded.

"Alright, huddle up," Crowley instructed. The four of them squished in and Crowley came up behind them and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. Dean shifted uncomfortably. Having that demon's filthy mitts on him was the last thing he wanted, but if they wanted to get any further, they needed him. It's not like they could just drive into the base and ask to talk to the Prince of Hell.

There was a tugging sensation deep in his stomach before the whole world pulled away. An instant later they were standing in a long corridor within the heart of the Fort Leavenworth military base, a stone's throw from where Malphas would be laying out his most recent strategic plan. Dean glanced around and found himself relieved to see that everyone had made it in one piece.

Crowley still had his hand on Jenna's arm as he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. An expression of confusion crossed her face, and a moment later they were gone. "That sonuvabitch!" Dean cursed a little too loudly.

Sam was shaking his head. "We should have known he'd pull something."

"The slimy little bastard," Dean continued. "When I get my hands on him-"

"We can deal with Crowley later," Sam cut his brother off, grabbing him and Cas by the arms and hauling them into a little side hallway before they were spotted by military personnel. "Right now, we need to focus on Malphas," he added under his breath.

"Sam's right," Cas agreed gravely. He pulled a blueprint of the building from his pocket and studied it intently. Dean noted it was upside down and quietly reached over and fixed it for the angel. For a moment, their eyes met and Cas offered him a grateful smile, before looking down and pointing to a room. "Crowley said we would find him here," he told them.

The three of them leaned in and studied the blueprint together. "That should be just down the end of the main hallway here," Dean noted.

The trio waited until the coast was clear then quickly made their way down the hall. Dean gripped the Colt tightly and nodded to his brother to open the door. On the other side stood the General whom they had seen on the news, the one that Malphas was last known to be wearing. Much to their surprise, he was alone and unguarded.

"That's him," Cas confirmed as he was the only one in the group able to see the demon's true face.

"Ah. The Winchesters and their angel. I should have known he'd send you," Malphas rasped as he slowly turned around and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the hunters. "No matter. You are little more than insects," he added dismissively.

Dean raised the Colt, and took aim. "Can an insect do this?" He asked and then pulled the trigger. A loud crack snapped through the air.

Malphas should have fallen to the floor, but instead the Prince of Hell raised a hand and for a moment time seemed to stand still. "What was that?" he asked as the bullet fell to the floor inches from his feet. "I believe it is you who underestimates me." With a quick movement of his hand, the Colt flew free of Dean's grasp and right into Malphas's.

"The holy water," Dean mouthed to his brother. Sam dug into his pocket, but before he could wrap his fingers around the flask he was thrown backward across the room.

Malphas tsked at them and began to slowly circle the room, like a hyena circling its prey, hands clasped loosely behind his back. Sam, crumpled against the wall, looked up and cast a worried glance at Dean. They were sitting ducks.

Cas looked from Sam to Dean to Malphas. With a sense of determination he stepped forwards placing himself between the Prince of Hell and his friends. Dean caught his gaze and shook his head. "Cas, don't!" he pleaded. The angel was his best friend, his only real friend, and he couldn't lose him. He couldn't let him sacrifice himself, not for him.

Malphas watched with an expression of mild amusement as the angel walked towards him, while Dean stared on helplessly. "You will not hurt them," Cas said with authority. Then he reached out and placed his palm against the demon's forehead to smite him. For a moment, Dean thought it might work. Perhaps now that Cas was a Seraph-

The Prince of Hell laughed and Castiel's expression turned from one of certainty to confusion. Dean's heart sunk. "Foolish angel," the demon rasped before he grabbed Cas roughly by the wrists.

"I don't underst-" Castiel stammered.

The angel turned towards him. "No!" Dean shouted as he lurched forward, but he was too late. Cas was already gone, teleported away in the grasp of the Prince of Hell. Dean fell to his knees and sobbed. He could still see the look of bewilderment and fear on Cas's face, etched into his memory like a photograph.

* * *

Jenna collapsed to her knees and retched. The double teleportation was more than her stomach could handle. If she could have gathered her thoughts, she would have given Crowley hell for tricking her, but the overwhelming nausea rendered her helpless on the floor while she struggled to recover her senses.

The first thing she noticed was a tingling sensation at the base of her spine. A subtle que that something wasn't right. Then she heard Crowley's muffled sigh, followed by, "Well, bollocks." When she looked up she saw that they were in the throne room at his lair near Fall River, Massachusetts. Everything was in disarray. Windows were smashed, light fixtures ripped from the walls, and his throne toppled. There were no demons bustling about. Everything was ominously quiet and still.

"I'm sorry to do this yet again love, but we can't stay here." Crowley apologized as he reached down and laid a hand on her shoulder. In an instant they were back outside the Men of Letters bunker. Jenna grabbed the stair rail for support as her knees caved. It didn't stop her fall, but at least it slowed it. She opened her mouth to express her displeasure to Crowley, but closed it quickly when she tasted bile in the back of her throat. "I know," Crowley said softly as he scooped her under the arm and lifted her back to her unsteady feet. "You can shout at me later."

Once they were safely inside and settled at the dining room table, Crowley snapped his fingers and conjured a glass of water for her. Jenna accepted it gladly, knowing the cool liquid would work wonders to soothe her rolling stomach. As the nausea subsided she turned to Crowley who was pacing on the other side of the room. "What happened?" she asked.

"Malphas, that's what," Crowley replied bitterly. "It seems the last of my demons have defected to the other side."

For a while it had seemed that the King of Hell had brought things back under control, but bit by bit Jenna had watched Crowley's kingdom crumble, falling through his fingers like sand. It wasn't a great battle, or some decisive turn of events, but rather the gradual loss of allegiance one demon at a time until his enemies forces were bolstered enough that the demons no longer feared their former king. "So what now?" Jenna asked with a pang of sadness for her lover.

"We lay low and we wait, and hopefully Dumb and Dumber don't bugger this up," Crowley replied miserably as he rubbed at his temple. "Once Malphas is out of the way, I can take care of the rest."

As much as she loathed the idea of yet another teleportation, Jenna couldn't see leaving Sam, Dean and Castiel on their own to face off against the very powerful Prince of Hell. "Shouldn't we go help them?" she asked, looking up to where Crowley stood, arms now crossed over his chest.

The demon shook his head. "It isn't safe."

Crowley did have a penchant for self-preservation, but Jenna had never known him to be a coward. Surely he must realize that in order for him to assure his continued survival, Malphas had to die and the best chance they had of ensuring that was to go and help the others. "They could be in trouble," she insisted.

Crowley uncrossed his arms and stood up straight. "I'm not risking that bastard getting his talons on you," he half-shouted.

Jenna got up from her seat and walked over to where he was standing and took his warm hand in hers. "Weren't you the one that said I don't give myself enough credit, that I'm more than capable?" she reminded him.

Crowley stared down at their fingers, intertwined. "This is different," he protested.

"It's not," Jenna replied, calmly. "I should be there. I'm supposed to help." It's not that she wasn't afraid of Malphas, she was. Terrified even, but she had come to understand and accept that she could never go back to her old life, and like it or not, she was a part of this now. If Malphas didn't die, nothing else would matter. Surely Crowley-

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" Jenna stammered.

Crowley let go of her hand, shoved his hands in his coat pocket and shrugged. "I mean no," he repeated.

Jenna tried to reason with him, but the demon had made up his mind. Without his power to teleport, there was nothing Jenna could do. Even if she knew how to hotwire a car, which she didn't, and could steal one to make the drive it would be another three to four hours depending on traffic before she made it back to Fort Leavenworth. Crowley knew that. He knew there was nothing she could do but relent, and wait for the others to return. If they returned, she thought dismally.

When finally she heard the door open, her heart flooded with relief. It felt like she had been holding her breath for hours, and her muscles ached. It was good to hear their footsteps down the stairs and into the strategy room where her and Crowley had remained in relative silence since they could not agree.

"Hello boys," Crowley greeted cheerily. He was sitting leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table sipping at a glass of Glencraig.

"You sonuvabitch!" Dean shouted as he lunged forwards. "I'm going to kill you."

Jenna barely had time to process what was going on. Somehow she sprang to her feet, not that she even remembered getting up, and lodged herself between Dean and where Crowley had been sitting. The demon of course had teleported to safety on the other side of the table. "What's going on?" Jenna demanded.

Crowley grimaced. "I take it things didn't go so well," he commented dryly.

Dean was seething. He was so angry that his whole body was vibrating. "Maybe if you'd stuck around-"

"If I'd stuck around?" Crowley interrupted, his voice raised to match that of the hunter. "Maybe if you half-wits had done your job! All you had to do was point and shoot!"

Jenna was looking frantically from one to the other and praying that they didn't kill each other. She'd seen Dean mad at Crowley before, but never like this. And she'd seen Crowley with his demons when things didn't go his way, though she hoped that his volatile temper didn't apply the same way to the Winchesters.

"We did," Sam countered. "Or at least we tried. Malphas did this weird thing like he stopped time and the bullet just fell to the floor."

"Hmm," Crowley pondered this new information. It seemed even he didn't know all of the tricks Malphas had up his sleeves. He looked from Sam, to Dean, then up the stairs from which they had entered the room. "Wait a minute, where's Feathers?" he asked.

Castiel! Jenna thought panicked. He hadn't come back with the others. The question from Crowley elicited another round of angry shouting from Dean and Jenna began to fear the worst. She could see the wet tears that brimmed in his green eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. "Dean, what happened?" she prodded gently.

Dean turned abruptly, fisting the tears away from his eyes. "Prince Douche has him," he growled. "No thanks to your boyfriend."

"He's not-" well actually he sort of was. Either way, it didn't matter. It wasn't what was important at the moment. "Is he alive?" Jenna asked of their missing companion.

"I don't know," Dean admitted then he sank into a chair and let his head fall into his hands. Never had Jenna seen him look so fragile and defeated. Dean was always the strong one, always the rock, and her heart ached for him.

"If Malphas took Feathers, he's still alive," Crowley interjected. "I can guarantee it." From across the table, Dean glared at the demon and for a moment Jenna thought he might climb right over it to get at him, but he didn't.

"How can you be so sure?" Sam asked. He was still standing, though he leaned down with his hands on the table as if the day had taken so much out of him he had to prop himself up.

Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "It's what I would do," he admitted. "Just think about it boys, all that knowledge, all those secrets. Malphas essentially has Hell. Earth is on it's knees..."

Sam looked like he was going to be sick and Dean didn't appear much better off. "You don't mean…?" he asked, unable to even finish the sentence.

"Afraid so, boys," Crowley affirmed. "Your little angel's going to Malphas's personal pin cushion until he's extracted every last ounce of information he's got rattling around in that pretty little head of his."

Jenna watched as Dean's hands balled into fists, but when he got up, he didn't go after Crowley. Instead, he walked to the side of the room and hit the wall so hard his knuckles bled. Castiel meant so much to him, and it tore her apart to think about what he must be going through at the moment, knowing Malphas had him and what he planned to do to him.

* * *

Jenna sat in her bed, her mind scrambling over the day's events. Malphas was too strong. The Colt was supposed to have been the one thing that was able to kill him. Without it, what chance did they stand? The world was going to end, and her soul was going to Hell. As much as she didn't want to, she had to know. So she clutched the pendant that Crowley had given her and quietly she whispered his name into the still air of the room.

"Couldn't bear to be away from me, hmm?" Crowley purred, suddenly standing at the end of the bed.

Jenna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It's not like he was wrong. When they were together things felt so right and he made all the things that were wrong seem to fade away. But, that wasn't why she had called to him, given their current circumstances and the fact that the chances of her upholding her end of the deal were bleak at best. "Crowley, I need to ask you something," she said.

"Ask me anything, love," he answered in his sultry accent.

If only it was so easy. "What happens to a soul in Hell?" Jenna blurted out as fast as she could, before she had a chance to change her mind.

Crowley gave a casual shrug of his shoulders, though his eyes seemed to narrow slightly. "It get's turned into a demon," he answered simply.

"How?" Jenna pushed. It still wasn't easy, but now that it was out, it wasn't so terribly hard to get her mouth to form the words.

Crowley's eyes narrowed further. "It is stripped of its humanity," he answered warily. "Did Squirrel put you up to this?"

Jenna tucked her knobby knees up to her chest and wrapped her slender arms around them. "No." Well not entirely. While it was true that Dean had goaded her, it wasn't as if she hadn't had the same questions. It was just that she had pretended as if she could just ignore them indefinitely, and maybe if they'd killed Malphas she could have, but not now. Not anymore. Whatever illusion she'd clung to that her and Crowley could actually be together, she knew it was about to come crashing down. "How?" she asked again, and her voice trembled because she knew that she didn't really want to know the truth.

"Really, Red? Must we do this?" Crowley replied, exasperated.

"Crowley, how exactly is a soul stripped of its humanity and turned into a demon? Just answer the question!"

Crowley sat down on the corner of the bed and the mattress sunk slightly under his weight. It was hard for Jenna not to think about the first time that he had sat with her like this, and the memories came flooding back. They had been at his lair in Fall River, Massachusetts and she had just erased a man from existence. She had asked him to stay, and he had, but it wasn't comfort that he offered her today. A tear rolled down her cheek. She would give anything to take it back, to go back to how things were between them, but it was too late now.

With a sigh, Crowley began to explain. Chipping away at a soul's humanity took time. Something they had plenty of in Hell, since time flowed differently there. Jenna had already seen the endless hallways of the queue when she had gone to search for Crowley. What she hadn't seen was the racks. The demon put on an impenetrable mask as he described to Jenna how a soul was tortured and torn apart, only to be put back together and start over. Day after day after agonizing day, until finally they were offered a chance to escape their punishing fate. All they had to do was exchange their chains for a blade and take on the role of torturer for the next soul. Most jumped at the opportunity, though a few tried to hold out. In the end though, everyone broke.

The indifference with which the demon spoke sent shivers down Jenna's spine. "And our deal... The contract I signed... Is that what will happen to my soul if we don't defeat Malphas?" she asked shakily.

"Red-" Crowley whispered and Jenna's brain struggled to reconcile the creature she saw in front of her with what he had just told her.

"Is it, Crowley?" Jenna demanded.

"Yes."

That single word struck her so hard that it felt as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs. With her eyes squeezed shut, she wrapped her arms tighter around her knees and tried to reign in the wave of emotions that threatened to drown her.

"What did you think Hell would be when you made the deal?" Crowley asked bitterly. "Puppies and rainbows?"

When Jenna opened her eyes, tears streamed freely down the side of her face. "I didn't think I'd ever have to find out!" she protested. It was true. She hadn't. In the beginning, everything had all seemed so strange it had been hard to believe it was real. At the time, she hadn't felt like she'd had a choice and she certainly hadn't expected it to come to this.

"Red," Crowley spoke softly as he leaned in stroked a warm thumb across her freckled cheek, brushing away her tears.

Jenna swatted his hand away and shook her head. "Don't," she warned. It was too much, and she needed time to sort through her thoughts.

"Jenna," Crowley pleaded, his brown eyes darting around hers. The sound of her name on his tongue sounded so unfamiliar. So desperate. It was a state that she had never seen him in, and as he sat there floundering, she almost felt bad for him. But Dean had been right, it was never going to end well. How could it when this was always the truth that had stood between them?

"I said no, Crowley," she repeated firmly.

The mask returned, and Crowley stood abruptly. Jenna did not get up. She just sat there and lowered her head. There was nothing stopping him. He could hurt her; he could kill her; he could collect on their deal, but it wasn't fear that Jenna felt. She felt sick. She felt betrayed. Yet all the while she knew that she had no right. After all, she was the one who had made a deal with a demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go! I hope you're enjoying this, although if you're not I imagine you stopped reading a long time ago ;) Please, let me know what you think. Your feedback means a lot to me.


	23. A New Plan

Damn his humanity, damn it straight to Hell. He was a demon. He was the King of Hell. He  _was_ the King of Hell.

It seemed Crowley had placed his bets on the wrong horse, yet here he was still sticking around. Part of it was self-interest, sure. It's not like Malphas would ever let the now former King of Hell live and pose a threat to his newly acquired kingdom. The other part, he'd never admit to anyone. Humanity: it was such a messy, awful thing, but it was also an addictive high to feel and damnit, he  _cared_.

Then there was the woman. As if things weren't complicated enough. Of course, after last night he'd be surprised if she ever so much as looked at him again. It hadn't exactly been on the best of terms when he'd left after their little chat. But what was he supposed to tell her, what was he supposed to do. It was a side of him he'd never wanted her to see. It's why he'd kept her locked out of his laboratory back at his lair. His face twitched with anger as he thought about that damned contract that the two of them had signed. It's not like he could have known.

But now what? It's not like he could just tear the contract up. After the truth that he had told her, if he freed her she would run as far as she could from him and never look back. That contract, it was the only thing that kept her bound to him. The only thing that was stopping him from losing her completely. Once Malphas was dead he would have nothing, but at least for now it bought him time to think.

When Crowley stepped into the dining room that morning, and saw the look of hurt on her face it was like a punch to the gut, but he just stood up taller and straightened his suit. "Sit down," he demanded when Jenna got up to leave.

"You don't own me yet," Jenna replied bitterly and turned her back on him. If she'd been one of his demons he would have ended her without a second thought. Not of course that he had any demons left at this point. Crowley let her take a couple of steps before he reached out with his telekinetic powers and lifted her back to her seat.

The instant he saw the fire in her glacial blue eyes he knew he'd made a mistake. It wasn't his lover he saw staring back at him, but The Thing That Should Not Be. Everything after that all happened so quick. She grabbed the invisible strands of energy, just as he'd taught her to do, and turned them on him before he could do anything. The force sent him flying backwards. Crowley braced himself for the impact, expecting to feel the plaster crack beneath his flesh.

"Hmm," Crowley mused when he stopped short of smashing into the wall. She'd held back. Even after everything she had no intentions of hurting him. "Point taken. Now, would you sit down,  _please_? We need to discuss what we're going to do about Malphas."

Jenna reluctantly lowered herself into one of the chairs. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"Lovers spat?" Dean inquired smugly from where he lounged at the far end of the table eating some leftover blackberry pie.

Crowley glared at him and to fight back any urge to pulverize him to dust. "Don't pretend like you had no part in this," he glowered. "As if you didn't orchestrate the whole thing because you don't like me because you're a hunter and I'm a demon."

Dean snorted and leaned in, speaking slowly and clearly. "Oh no, Crowley, it's not because you're a demon that I don't like you," he informed him. "I don't like you because you've killed people I cared about, tortured my friends, and done all sorts of bad."

Yes, there was all that too, Crowley supposed as he tilted his head and shrugged. Of course, that had been before the botched curing ritual and the human blood had tainted him with this damned humanity. Things were different now. "And yet here we are," Crowley reminded him with a wide gesture of his hands, "fighting on the same side."

"We may be fighting on the same side for now," Dean agreed reluctantly, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

It shouldn't have mattered to him, but Dean's continued hostility towards him hurt. Not that he'd ever show it. After all they'd been through together, when Dean was a demon and afterwards, was it not true that as of late he'd helped those blasted Winchesters more than he'd harmed them? Yet he knew that he'd never earn their forgiveness. They would never be able to look past what he was and what he'd done. Now neither would the woman, not after what he had told her. How foolish and  _human_ it had been of him to hope, to hope what? That someone could be his friend? That someone could actually want him? Love him?  _Him?_  Bah, damned feelings!

Crowley stood up straighter and adjusted his suit. "Perhaps we could all try to act like adults instead of squabbling like petty children," he replied harshly as he pushed those thoughts aside.

"I hate to say it, but Crowley's right," Sam interjected. "We need to work together, and we can't do that if we're constantly at each other's throats."

Jenna sighed and looked around the table, her gaze briefly meeting Crowley's before it flitted away. "So, what are we going to do about Malphas?" she asked as she stared past him. How could everything have fallen apart so quickly, Crowley wondered, when only twenty four hours before they would have been sitting side by side, her hand squeezing his thigh under the table and him nibbling at her ear and stealing kisses much to the brothers' disapproval at their gratuitous displays of public affection. Now she was so cold towards him, not that he could really blame her.

Crowley spoke slowly as he explained. "If you recall when we were fighting together against the Darkness and all of that business with Lucifer was going on, I had some of my best and brightest studying and re-engineering the technology and magic from Lucifer's cage."

"I don't see where you're going with this," Dean replied. "Didn't all of your demons defect to Malphas's side?"

"Yes," Crowley admitted through a clenched jaw. "The point is, I still have the results from that research. With a little help, I think we can lock that overambitious megalomaniac up before he destroys everything."

Dean faked a cough and leaned back in his seat. "You're one to speak."

Crowley arched an eyebrow and tilted his head. "And what exactly are you insinuating?"

"A megalomaniac?" Dean repeated. "Really, and you need to ask?"

Sam cleared his throat, distracting both his older brother and the demon from their current spat and returning everyone's attention to the task at hand. "You said with a little help," he repeated. "From whom exactly?"

Crowley drew in a long breath and then exhaled in a quick huff. It wasn't as if he liked asking for her help, but who else possessed the power and arcane knowledge that they would require to pull this off. Who else except, "Mother."

* * *

When Castiel had returned to consciousness it was to a searing pain that started in his chest and seemed to shoot out through his veins to every corner of his body. The pain was so intense that it rendered his vision little more than static. Once in awhile it would subside briefly and he would struggle to raise his head and look around, but the room in which he found himself was unfamiliar to him.

A new wave of pain coursed through him and Castiel gripped tightly the arms of the chair where he was bound and gritted his teeth. This time when the pain subsided and he feebly lifted his head and peeled open his eyes it wasn't the peeling paint and flickering lights of the unknown room that he saw, but a face staring back at him. A general. The general. The yellow-eyed, beaked face of Malphas visible even behind that of the meat suit he was wearing.

Fort Leavenworth, Castiel groaned. The attack, they had failed. He'd been captured. It was all coming back to him now. Then his thoughts shifted to Dean. To Sam. Anxiously he struggled to hold his head up and look around, but his friends were nowhere to be seen. Whatever had happened to them back at the military base, they were not here. It was not clear to him whether he should be worried or relieved. Had they escaped the clutches of Malphas's talons, or were they already dead?

"No one is coming to save you, Castiel," Malphas assured him. "It's just you and me."

Dead. They were dead. Castiel felt an ache in his chest unlike anything he'd ever known as he recalled the pained expression on Dean's face, the last thing that he had seen before everything had faded to black. He had failed his friends. It had been his duty, his mission, to protect them and through it all he had come to care about them deeply.

With a hiss, Malphas reached out and gripped a knife that was lodged in Castiel's chest. The angel's eyes fell to the glowing runes etched into its glinting, silver blade and he understood the magnitude of the agony as his captor twisted and drove it deeper. The blade Malphas possessed held an ancient and powerful magic, one that only the oldest of demons would be able to harness. "Tell me where the gate is and this all stops," Malphas whispered in his ear. His raspy voice carrying the promise of a reprieve Castiel knew all too well was a lie. Malphas would never let him go.

"I can't," Casitel refused.

"Oh, you foolish angel. You will," Malphas assured him as he leaned in, his words licking at Castiel's ear. "The only question is how much I have to hurt you first."

"I will never betray-," The searing pain began again and Castiel cried out in anguish. "Auggghh!"

"Tell me, angel!" Malphas's voice lashed in unison with another agonizing twist of the knife.

Castiel closed his eyes and searched for the strength to hold out. If Dean was dead, if Sam was dead, then his mission was still to protect Heaven. He could not give Malphas the information he needed to lead his demon army straight through the gates and lay siege to his former home. The angels would never expect it. They would never believe it possible and they would not be prepared.

Malphas released the knife, and mercifully, the pain stopped. "No matter," the Prince of Hell told him in an eerily cheerful tone. "There are some tricks I learned from my predecessor. If you won't agree to play along willingly, then I won't give you a choice."

Castiel recognized the device that Malphas pulled out and slipped over his head. It was the same one that had been used on Samandriel and again on Gadreel when he was possessing Sam. "No!" Castiel protested as he pulled against his bonds, but it was no use. The Prince of Hell had modified them so that they were etched not only with a devil's trap, but also with Enochian sigils to hold an angel and render it powerless.

"I know that somewhere up here," Malphas tapped on the side of Castiel's head, "is what I want to know. If I dig around deep enough, I'm bound to find it eventually." As Malphas began to screw the device into his brain, digging for the secrets buried in his hard-wiring, Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and gave in to the utter feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed him. There was nothing more he could do. He was powerless, and sooner or later, Malphas was going to find what he was looking for.

* * *

Jenna walked around the corner and saw Crowley and Rowena talking to Dean. It felt like someone grabbed her heart and shoved it in a vice. No matter how much she wanted to hate Crowley, when she looked at him, she didn't see the demon that the others did. She inhaled a shaky breath and ducked back behind the wall. It crossed her mind to retreat back to her room where she wouldn't have to face him, but her legs wouldn't cooperate, so she stood there frozen listening to their conversation.

"Yes, mummy dearest is on board," Crowley assured Dean. It still surprised Jenna that he had family. Never once had he mentioned his mother, and it simply hadn't occurred to her that being a demon he would. Yet if what he had told her about what happened to a soul in Hell was true then even he had once been human, she supposed,

"Your dear, sweet mother can speak for herself, Fergus," Rowena reminded him. "And the angels?" she asked.

There was a long pause. "We're working on it," Dean grumbled, and Jenna supposed that his meeting with the Hannah hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped. "You're sure you can locate Malphas?" he asked.

"Of course I can locate Malphas," Rowena assured him. There was an air of affront to her voice. "I'm not just your average witch."

Crowley's voice again, "Where's Red?" Jenna's chest tightened and she closed her eyes.

"Dude, I don't think she wants to talk to you," Dean told him, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Jenna desperately wanted to talk to Crowley, to beg him to tell her that he hadn't meant what he'd said, but she knew that he had. What he had told her had been the truth. It had to have been because of their contract.

"No thanks to you, of course," Crowley grumbled, but this wasn't Dean's fault. It was bound to have come out eventually. "We'll need her tomorrow if we're going to make this work," he added.

Jenna closed her eyes once more and took a deep breath before stepping out into the room. "Don't worry," she told him before Dean could respond. "I'll be there."

Crowley maintained his composure. It was hard to read what he was thinking when all he said was, "Good."

The hurt began to bubble back to the surface. "It's not like I have much choice," Jenna added bitterly.

Crowley reached a hand out towards her. "Red-"

"Don't," Jenna warned and he dropped his hand to his side. "Let's just get through tomorrow and shove Malphas in that cage. Then we can be done with this." Then she would be free of her contract, free of Hell, and free of him.

"So this is the woman who has my boy all in a tither?" Rowena chimed, eyeing Jenna up. Crowley's mother was an attractive woman with long, brilliant red hair and wore an elegant, flowing green dress. Jenna couldn't help but to wonder what exactly she meant, but it was foolish to hold out hope.

Crowley opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Everyone turned and looked up the stairs towards the foyer. The demon arched an eyebrow, "Expecting anyone?" he asked.

"No," Dean answered, his handgun already drawn. With a nod to Sam the two of them ascended the stairs and cautiously approached the door.

Jenna took a step to follow, but a warm hand gently took her by the wrist and held her back. It was the first time he had touched her since their chat, and Jenna was surprised at how much she still craved that physical contact between them. What she wanted more than anything was to be in his arms. When she looked over at Crowley there was for a fraction of a second an almost apologetic expression on his face, then once again the impenetrable mask was back in place. "Can't risk anything happening to you before tomorrow," he told her, his words like a knife, twisting in the raw wound he'd already left in her heart.

"Right," Jenna mumbled, pulling her arm away and craning her neck to see what was going on up above.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded when he opened the door.

"Dean Winchester?" The voice asked.

It was a voice that Jenna would have recognized anywhere. She pushed past Crowley and rushed up the stairs. "Dad?" she called out in surprise.

It was almost comical to watch her tiny, frail mother shove past the two men who towered over her as she made her way to her daughter. "Jenna!" she cried out in relief. "You're alive! Are you okay?"

"Mom," Jenna greeted her tearily. When she had left them to go to Hell in search of Crowley she had felt awful, and with the uncertainty of the outcome of their upcoming battle with Malphas, Jenna hadn't been sure she would ever see them again. In an instant she found herself wrapped up in the arms of both her parents as they hugged and fussed over her. "I'm fine," Jenna assured them. "What are you two doing here?"

Anne grasped Jenna by the shoulders and held her out in front of her. "Looking for you," she answered with tears of joy streaking from the wrinkled corners of her eyes.

"It hasn't been easy to track you down," Kenneth added. "All we had to go on were two names we weren't even sure were real. Some Sam and Dean Winchester."

"We're real," Dean assured him still standing in the doorway. Both him and Sam had been all but forgotten as the family reunited. With a shrug to his brother, Sam ushered Jenna's parents inside the heart of the bunker, past Rowena and Crowley to the dining room where they were promptly joined by all the others.

"Who are all these people?" Anne asked in a hushed whisper.

"Mom, dad, this is Sam, Dean, Crowley, and Rowena," Jenna introduced them. "Everyone, these are my parents, Kenneth and Anne James."

Rowena stepped up with a big smile and shook their hands. "So nice to meet you."

Kenneth looked from Jenna to the stocky man in the expensive suit who was standing back and keeping his distance. "Hold on. Crowley. Isn't that the man you said kidnapped you?" he recalled. "Honey, what is going on here?"

Jenna cast a glance at Crowley, who tilted his head curiously as he waited for her response. Kidnapped. Is that what she had called it? That day back at the motel felt like a lifetime ago. It was hard to remember that she hadn't always wanted to stay, that she hadn't always chosen to be a part of this. "It's complicated," Jenna answered finally.

"Complicated?" Kenneth repeated, voice raised ever so slightly.

"Look, dad, I know you don't understand, but we're trying to stop Malphas. Remember I told you about him, he's a Prince of Hell. He's also the one who started World War Three. He's taken back over Hell," Jenna paused and looked to Crowley who nodded quietly in agreement. "Now he's captured our friend Castiel. He's an angel, and we're afraid Malphas is torturing him for information on Heaven's weaknesses so he can conquer it next. He has an army of demons at his disposal-"

"Sweetheart," Anne pleaded.

Kenneth rubbed at his forehead. "Angels, demons. God damnit Jenna, they're not real!" he frowned as he looked at her, instantly apologetic for his frustrated outburst. It wasn't often that Jenna saw him lose his cool. His voice softened, "Let us get you some help."

"Actually, they are," Dean cut in. "Demons, angels, monsters, it's all real."

Kenneth turned on Dean. He was shaking his head, his hands balled into fists. "Shame on you for feeding into her delusions. What kind of sickos are you?" He asked before he pulled out his cellphone. "I'm calling the police."

Sam outstretched a hand, his brows furrowed deeply as he spoke in a soft, soothing tone. "Please Mr. James, just hear us out."

Kenneth ignored Sam and kept dialing. "Dad," Jenna pleaded.

Crowley sighed impatiently then used his telekinetic powers to snatch the phone from Kenneth's hand. Once it was in his own he walked casually over, snapped it shut, and placed it on the table. Anne gasped in shock and brought her hand up to her mouth while her husband stood, jaw agape staring at him.

"What are you?" Anne asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You know those demons you say aren't real? Well I'm the King of Hell," Crowley told her and he let his eyes glow a solid red as he looked from one parent to other. "Or rather currently the former King of Hell. Now may I suggest that you sit down, start listening, and stop treating your daughter like she's crazy."

No one had ever stood up for her like that before. Of course, no one had ever believed her until she had met the Winchesters. Jenna looked at Crowley, and he turned towards her and their gaze met. The red glow faded from his eyes and they returned to a soft, gentle brown as he looked at her. How could this be the same demon that told her her soul would be tortured and stripped of its humanity? This demon, this man, this creature whom she had trusted, who had never hurt her, who continued to stand up for and protect her, and who made her feel safe and secure in a world that was falling apart.

Anne trembled before the demon and did as he said. Her hands shook as she pulled out the chair and sat down. Kenneth however stood his ground. "You're a demon?" he demanded.

"Now he's getting it," Crowley commented snarkily as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes. I'm a demon. As if the glowing red eyes didn't give it away."

Kenneth turned to Rowena. "What about you?"

Rowena gestured to Crowley. "I'm his mother."

Anne blinked, still struggling to make sense of a world that had just been turned upside down. "So, you're a demon too?" she stammered in disbelief as she eyed up the woman in her elegant dress.

Rowena smiled. "No dear, I'm a witch."

"A three hundred year old witch," Dean added.

Kenneth let out a dissatisfied huff before turning to Sam and Dean. "And what are you then?"

"We're human," they assured him.

For the next hour Jenna sat in the dining room with her parents while they battered her with questions. Sam had been so kind as to fix them all some tea before disappearing to the kitchen with the others to give her and her family some space. It was so strange to be able to talk to them, to tell them the truth and have them listen. To really listen without passing judgement or questioning her sanity. For that, she had Crowley to thank.

Without realizing it, Jenna found herself staring at him where he stood in the kitchen amidst an animated conversation with Sam and Dean. While she couldn't make out what they were saying, she assumed it had to do with the plan for tomorrow. There were still a lot of details to work out and gaps to be filled. If they were going to defeat Malphas and lock him away in the cage, then everything would have to go perfectly.

She should be over there too, Jenna thought. This was her fight as much as it was theirs.

"Is there a washroom around here," Kenneth asked, and Jenna's attention snapped back to her parents.

"Yes, down the hall to the left," Jenna answered as she pointed him in the right direction.

Once her husband was out of earshot, Anne leaned in and asked, "What's going on with you and Crowley? And don't tell me nothing because I can see the way you look at him."

"Oh mom," Jenna sighed.

Anne took her daughter's hands in her own. Her skin was wrinkled and turning vaguely translucent with age. "You love him, don't you?" she asked.

Jenna cast another longing glance in Crowley's direction and sighed again. "It's complicated."

It was more complicated than she ever could have imagined or ever have explained. It wasn't just that he was a demon and she was human. That he was the former King of Hell and she was The Thing That Should Not Be. It was the contract she had signed, and the truth about what would happen if she failed to uphold her end of the deal. It was that even though her head told her to run, her heart still told her to stay. It was that despite everything when she looked at him, when she saw his soul, she was not afraid.


	24. The Cage

Everyone had come together for the final showdown against Malphas. The Winchesters, Crowley, Rowena, Jenna, and even Hannah was doing her part to get the angels on board. Today was the day. Today was the day they would save the world, or die trying.

Jenna sat at the edge of her bed, folded over and pulling the laces tight on her boots, when she heard a gentle but firm knock at her door. Tap, tap, tap. It wasn't the obtrusive, hammering knock of Dean, or the more hesitant knock of Sam. The younger brother always reminded her of the way her mother would stand outside her bedroom door when Jenna had been a teenager, unsure if she should disturb her. Except that one day when he'd barged in on her and Crowley because he'd thought she was in trouble, she thought with a snort. This wasn't her mother or her father either. Crowley never knocked. He just showed up. That left Rowena.

"Come in," Jenna beckoned. The interruption took her by surprise. It was game day and she had assumed that everyone would be busy with their last minute preparations. What could the witch possibly want with her, she wondered. Surely there was plenty of preparation to do. The spellwork she had described the night before that she would need to locate Malphas had sounded complicated and required many rare ingredients. It would have been easier, Rowena had lamented with a certain dramatic flare, if they had had a belonging of the Prince, but alas they did not.

The door eased open, and as Jenna had suspected Rowena stepped confidently into the room. "Do you have a moment?" she asked cheerily.

"Sure," Jenna offered, but her eyes fell to the cat cradled in the witch's arm. A black cat with a white circle around it's eye and a white paw. It couldn't be. "Is that-"

"Mmhmm," Rowena smiled widely and placed the cat down gingerly on the floor. Spot immediately hopped up on the bed and began to rub affectionately against Jenna, purring all the while.

"How did you-," Jenna teared up. "I thought he was dead."

"Fergus went back and found him in the rubble of his lair," Rowena explained, earning a snort from Jenna. Crowley didn't even like the cat. Her voice lowered. "He cares about you, you know?"

"Crowley?" Jenna asked incredulously, "Cares about me?" She still couldn't look past their last conversation when he'd admitted what would happen to her soul in Hell. How could he care about her if that is what he would let happen.

"Mmhmm," Rowena affirmed.

Jenna raised an eyebrow. "He told you this?" she asked skeptically.

"Not exactly," Rowena admitted as she sat down on the bed and took Jenna's hands in hers. "But I'm his mother, dear. He doesn't have to tell me. Mothers know these things."

Jenna shook her head in disbelief. Perhaps it was a mother's intuition. Had her own mother not asked her about Crowley just the other night? Even though her and Crowley were barely in the same room for more than a moment here and there, both Anne and Rowena had been able to sense that there was something between them. Something big, and meaningful. Something-

"He told me that he wants to torture me and cut away every bit of my soul that makes me human," Jenna replied bluntly, not allowing her thoughts to wander too far into the territory of hope. She could not let herself forget the truth, no matter how much she wanted to lock it away in some deep dark hole and keep pretending that what her and Crowley had had meant something.

Now it was Rowena's turn to arch her eyebrows and ask the question. "He told you that?"

Jenna sighed. "Well, not exactly," she admitted as she stroked Spot's head and scratched him behind the ears, a slight blush creeping up into her freckled cheeks. "But I signed a contract and he did tell me that is what would happen to my soul if we fail to defeat Malphas."

Rowena nodded stiffly. "I see."

* * *

In the dining room, everyone had gathered around as Rowena made the final preparations to cast the spell that would give them Malphas's location. Jenna's parents and Sam milled about eagerly, nervously, wringing their hands and pacing back and forth. Crowley leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Every now and then Jenna stole a glance at him from where she sat, legs folded underneath her, watching the witch work.

"If you all could please try to keep still," Rowena snapped as she drew runes around the edge of a large map that she had laid out. "I need to concentrate."

Dean walked into the room, and deposited another armful of ingredients he had raided from the Men of Letters stores in front of Rowena. "That should be the last of it," he announced. Jenna leaned in and tried to recognize some of the items now laid on on the table. There was an assortment of gems and crystals, a jar labelled _blood of an innocent_ that made her cringe, a picture of the General that Malphas was last known to be possessing, and a large black feather.

"It's an angel's wing feather," Dean whispered to Jenna as he walked past and her eyes widened. Somehow though she could see Castiel's soul, his angelic grace, she had never seen his wings. Judging by the size of the feather Rowena now held in her hands, an angel's wings must be impressive.

With the runes finished, the gems laid out in a precise pattern on the map, and the rest of the ingredients placed into a brass goblet, Rowena added the picture of the General.

"Let's just hope he hasn't ditched the meat suit," Dean grumbled. Subconsciously Jenna crossed her fingers and said a silent prayer, though she doubted anyone was actually listening. Everything was up to them now, and if this didn't work-

"Shush," Rowena warned him. "Keep quiet and let me work." The room went dead still as the witch began to cast the spell with the precision and care of a master at her craft. "Ostende illum mihi quem quaero," she chanted, then she tossed a lit match into the goblet and everything went up in a puff of blue flame. The gems on the map began to glow and tremble, slowly ordering themselves until they circled an area of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. "That's where you'll find Malphas," Rowena stated triumphantly, as she pointed to the map.

Dean examined the circled area. "There isn't anything around there for miles. Are you sure the spell worked?" he asked.

There was a look of affront upon Rowena's face. "Yes, I'm sure the spell worked!" she exclaimed angrily.

"That isn't entirely true," Crowley offered, as he pushed himself away from the wall and uncrossed his arms. He took a step towards the others who were all gathered around the table.

"Fergus, I-" Rowena began to protest.

"Not you, mother," Crowley rolled his eyes at the witch. "It isn't entirely true that there isn't anything around there for miles," he corrected, speaking in a slow, calculated manner.

Sam narrowed his eyes and studied the demon intently. "What do you mean? What's there?"

"Site 57. A black ops site," Crowley informed them, tilting his head to the side as he spoke. "One of those places that isn't supposed to exist."

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried glance. "And you know this how?" the younger brother asked.

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Information is my business," he replied casually. "Besides, one never knows when they might have need of such… facilities. Bribe a few guards, make a few deals-"

"You use them to torture people," Sam interrupted in disgust. Crowley cast an uncomfortable glance in Jenna's direction.

"Why not just use your lab?" Dean added. "Surely it must be easier."

"Yes well," Crowley shifted his weight as he spoke his eyes flitting anywhere but at the redhead at the end of the table, "sometimes it proves prudent not to use my lab. Demons are rather fickle, untrustworthy creatures as I think has been proven and I don't always wish for them to know who or what I'm questioning," he explained. "Site 57 is secure and off the books. I'm not surprised that Prince Not-So-Charming would choose to take Feathers there. Wearing the General as a meat suit I'm sure he could just waltz right in."

"Great," Dean muttered as he raked a hand through his short, chestnut hair.

Jenna's parents stared at Crowley with a combined look of horror on their faces. The demon sighed and gestured to himself. "King of Hell," he reminded them.

"Former King of Hell," Dean corrected smugly.

Crowley wrinkled his nose and shot a disgusted look at the hunter who was leaned back in his chair. "Besides, it's not like it's anyone who doesn't deserve it," he added almost defensively.

Sam snorted in disbelief, "Right."

Jenna spoke up, her voice a hair on the hesitant side. "Would I deserve it?" she asked quietly. Sure, she had made a deal with a demon but she did not believe that she was a bad person. She did not believe that she deserved what Crowley had told her would happen to her soul in Hell. There was a long, awkward silence.

"Red," Crowley reached out and tried to placate her.

"Don't," Jenna warned, before he could cup her freckled cheek in his hand. If she let him touch her she was sure she would lose her resolve because despite everything Jenna desperately wanted to believe it wasn't true. Her heart ached to be loved by him, to believe that he actually cared about her. "Let's just finish this. Let's save the world and be done."

* * *

Unsure of whether or not they would be successful, Jenna had said a tearful goodbye to her parents before Crowley had teleported the rest of them from the Men of Letters bunker to just outside the remote black ops Site 57 hidden away in the Rocky Mountain range in Colorado. Jenna's knees buckled underneath her and she wondered how the others all handled the teleportation so easily with no apparent ill effect. It crossed her mind that it might have to do somehow with what she was that she always reacted so terribly to it. Her body heaved, but thankfully her stomach contents stayed where they belonged. Crowley reached down to help her, but Jenna swatted away his hand. "I'm fine," she insisted as she pulled herself to her feet.

"Suit yourself," Crowley retorted, shrugging off the rejection with an air of casual indifference.

"There's nothing here," Dean accused as he looked around the barren wilderness. Crowley nodded with a knowing smile to a small hatch hidden in the mountainside. "Well, okay then," Dean replied. "As soon as the angels get their feathery asses down here, we'll do this."

As if on queue there was a fluttering of wings and everyone spun around in unison. Hannah stood alone dressed smartly in a blue and grey power suit, her brown hair tied back in a pony tail. "Where's the rest of you?" Dean demanded as he looked around for any sign of the other angels. "I thought I said to bring the cavalry."

Hannah stared at him a serious expression on her face. "The other angels would not come," she told him plainly. "After Castiel's betrayal they will have no part in this."

"This isn't just about Cas," Sam huffed.

"They say that this war is not ours to fight," Hannah explained. "I'm only here because Castiel is a friend and despite our differences one thing I learned from him is that sometimes you have to break the rules to do what is right. I think that is why God brought me back. So I could do the right thing and be there for him now."

Dean let out an exasperated huff and shook his head. "That's just great," he muttered. "Hell's gone. Earth is pooched. Malphas, he's coming," Dean warned. "Now, you lot can sit up there on your cloud and hope that you're safe, but you'd be wrong. This is absolutely your war too. What's it going to take to get that through your thick angel skulls?"

"Heaven is protected," Hannah insisted.

Dean threw his hands in the air. "Is that so?" he asked, the raw anger and frustration palpable in his voice. "Tell me, these safeguards that Heaven has, does Cas know about them?"

The angel regarded him wearily, her brown eyes narrowed. "Yes, of course."

Dean shook his head and exhaled sharply. "So you're willing to bet that Prince Douche hasn't, or won't, find a way to break Cas and make him spill the beans."

"I-" Hannah stammered. "I- I tried."

"Yeah, well you should have tried harder," Dean grumbled. By the look of hurt on Hannah's face it was clear to Jenna that the angel cared deeply about her friend.

Rowena cleared her throat. Once she had everyone's attention she gestured to the hatch in the mountainside. "In case you all forgot, the clock is ticking," she reminded them.

Dean turned to Hannah. "Can you open it?"

The angel looked at the hatch and nodded. "Yes."

This time Dean turned to the rest of them. "Everyone ready?"

Jenna's heart leapt into her throat, the last time she had faced off with the Prince of Hell she'd spent eight days in a coma, but still she forced herself to nod. They were two humans, a witch, a single angel, The Thing That Should Not Be, and the former King of Hell. They were all that stood between Malphas, the most powerful demon they had ever encountered, and the complete fall of the cosmos to his will. It was one hell of a burden to bear and her chest felt like it might cave in under the weight of it.

A warm hand wrapped around hers and squeezed it gently. Jenna looked up and turned her head to find Crowley. He offered her a reassuring smile. Instead of pulling away this time she squeezed his hand back and as he entwined his fingers with hers it just felt right. In a moment it could all be over, and right now she just didn't have it in her to keep fighting with him. "You've got this, Red" he told her. It didn't feel like it, but she hoped to God he was right.

* * *

Crowley, intimately familiar with the black ops site from his own dealings, lead the rest of the group to a maintenance room far enough from where the prisoners were interrogated that they would not draw any attention. It wasn't a large room, but it was ample enough for what they had planned.

"You half-wits better have everything ready by the time I get back," Crowley told them. "Or we'll all be squashed like bugs."

"We'll be ready," Dean assured him confidently.

Rowena smiled and ushered her son towards the door. "Don't worry Fergus, despite what you'd like to believe we're not all as incapable as you make us out to be." That only earned a callous snort from the demon, but none the less he turned to leave.

Jenna bit her lip. God how she wanted to call out to him. To tell him to be careful. To tell him to come back in one piece. But she just stood there and watched him go, the words caught in her throat.

"Well, you heard the man," Rowena said, clapping her hands loudly after Crowley was gone. "We don't have much time."

Everyone busied themselves with their own part in the master plan. Sam and Dean set traps. Rowena prepared her spell with the ingredients she'd brought with her in her bag from the Men of Letters bunker. Hannah kept watch with her highly acute angel senses. And Jenna stood back and waited. And waited. And waited.

It felt like forever passed as they waited for Crowley to return. Jenna chewed her lip and fidgeted nervously with the hem of her shirt. Her resolve, her confidence in their plan slowly slipping away like sand through her fingers. What if Malphas had killed Crowley? What if it was already over before it had even started?

"They're coming," Hannah alerted the others. Jenna's heart skipped a beat and her stomach tied itself in knots. Sam and Dean nodded to each other and got into position at the far end of the room between the door and where Rowena was set up to cast her spell. The door flew open and Crowley burst through, a limp and lifeless Castiel draped in his arms.

"Is he-," Dean choked up.

"No Squirrel, he's not dead," Crowley assured him as he set Castiel's body on the ground, leaning him up against one of the side walls. Hannah rushed over to her fellow angel and knelt at his side.

"Can you heal him?" Dean asked with urgency in his voice.

Hannah nodded. "Yes, I can heal him. But it will take time."

"We don't have time," Sam said with a grimace as he heard their target approaching the door.

Dean pointed at Hannah. "You just fix him," he told her. "You fix him, and we'll handle the rest."

Malphas stepped casually through the door and surveyed the room with an amused grin on his face. "Look at you little ants," he rasped. "All scurrying around in the shadow of a giant. You have no hope of winning this fight, so what are you doing here?"

Dean set his jaw in a hard line and held his ground opposite the Prince of Hell. "We'll see about that," he threatened.

Malphas took a step forwards. He was so close. Just one more step, Jenna willed. But he stood there at the edge of their trap. "What are you to stand against me?" he mocked. "A broken angel and another too weak from trying to heal him? Two human hunters who already failed to kill me once? A witch without a coven? And you," he turned to Crowley who still stood at the side of the room. "A former king without a crown or a throne to sit on, your power fading with every passing day."

Everyone turned to Crowley. "You could have mentioned that," Dean shot.

Crowley shrugged his shoulders. "Would it have made any difference?" The truth was it wouldn't have. It didn't matter what they had, or how high the odds were stacked against them, they had to try.

Malphas took another step towards Crowley. A step away from their trap. No. No. No. Jenna stepped out of the corner and fell in line with Sam and Dean. It wasn't part of the plan, but she had to do something. "They have me," she stated with a confidence she didn't really feel.

It felt like Jenna's heart didn't beat for the entire long pause that followed. Then Malphas turned away from Crowley and took a step towards her. She raised her chin and took a deep breath. "You?" Malphas chuckled. "The Thing That Should Not Be. The thing that can not use her powers on me or risk destroying all of creation?"

How could he know that? Jenna glanced nervously at Dean who shrugged her shoulders. It didn't matter. If they could get him into the trap she might not be able to erase him from existence, but she could do enough. "That's right," Jenna challenged. "Me."

Malphas laughed again. "Oh I am so going to enjoy crushing all of you pathetic, tiny little nothings." Then he lifted his foot and took that step towards them that they had all been waiting for.

"Now!" Sam called and Dean quickly tossed a lit match to the floor. The devil's trap they'd laid out in holy oil engulfed in flames with Malphas trapped in the middle of it. The Prince of Hell screeched angrily.

"What's the matter?" Dean taunted. "I thought we were nothings?"

"These flames won't hold me forever," Malphas warned.

"They don't have to," Crowley said confidently as he stepped up to the edge of the devil's trap and sneered at his opponent caught inside. "You're up, Red."

Jenna gulped nervously. She knew what her part was, but that didn't make getting into that circle with the Prince of Hell any easier. _You've got this_ , Crowley's words echoed in her head and she took a deep breath and gave one final glance behind her at the others who waited anxiously, knowing as well as her that the clock was ticking.

"Foolish woman," Malphas laughed as Jenna stepped through the flames. "I don't need my powers to destroy you. I'll just do it the good, old-fashioned way," he said as his hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck. Even without his demonic strength, Malphas's meat suit was nearly twice her size and easily able to physically overpower her. Jenna clawed helplessly at his hands as he brought her to her knees.

"Let her go," Crowley growled from where he stood on the other side of the flames.

"Or you'll what?" Malphas sneered back.

Jenna could see the muscles twitch in Crowley's face as the Prince of Hell choked the life out of her. As she struggled desperately her limbs began to feel heavy and her vision blurred. It felt like her eyes were bulging out of her skull.

"You've got this Red. You're more than capable. You know what you need to do." Jenna wasn't sure if she actually heard Crowley's voice or if it was just a memory. "Red, now. You have to do it now."

Jenna stopped clawing at Malphas's hands. She stopped fighting and let go. There was nothing but blackness as her oxygen-starved brain began to shut down her senses. Reaching out she felt for Malphas's chest and placed her hands over where his heart would be, where she knew his soul, his demonic essence, would be found. It was by feel alone that she sought a hold on the energy that swirled at his core.

"What are you doing?" Malphas hissed as she found it and wrapped her tiny hands around it. Jenna tugged at it and tried to work it free, but Malphas's grip tightened around her neck and her other sense began to fade until the world all but ceased to exist.

"Red-"

This was it. This was what death felt like.

"Red!"

Even Jenna's thoughts faded. Her pain and her fear disappeared. And when she opened her eyes again it took her a moment to realize that she was still alive, and a moment more to put together what was happening. Crowley? Crowley! He was in the devil's trap with her, trapped and powerless too. But that didn't stop him from pummelling the other demon until his grip loosened and Jenna was able to pull some much needed air into her lungs.

"You're like a cancer that just won't go away," Malphas complained, his attention now split between Jenna and Crowley.

Jenna took advantage of the distraction and drew in another shaky breath and her senses began to clear. Placing her hands against Malphas's chest once more she focused drawing his essence from the body he wore and leaving it exposed. In the background she could hear Rowena chanting something in latin, then suddenly there was a bright flash and the black fog from Malphas's core plummeted towards the center of the earth, towards Hell, towards the cage where he would be bound for the rest of eternity.

It was done, Jenna realized somewhat in shock as she heard the hoots and hollers that echoed around her. She collapsed to her knees and looked up at Crowley. He stood there in the devil's trap with a black eye and split lip smiling down at her. Jenna closed her eyes and sighed in relief. They had really done it. Malphas was gone. They had won.

* * *

As the celebration died down and everyone began to regroup and gather their things, they heard a fluttering of wings. Suddenly five angels stood before them. The seraph Jehoel was there, and Joshua too.

"Oh, now you show up," Dean grumbled. The angels paid him no mind.

"You disobeyed orders, Hannah," Joshua stated simply.

Hannah looked up, from where she knelt on the ground cradling Castiel's weak but recovering body. "I-"

"You disobeyed orders, but you were right. You were both right," Joshua continued. "Castiel, I am sorry. We misjudged you and you paid the consequences of that judgement. Still you did not betray us. Heaven would be honoured to have you return."

Castiel lifted his head slowly as if it weighed a ton. Though Hannah had healed the bulk of his injuries, it would take some time for his strength to return. "Does that mean-"

"You get your wings back," Hannah replied with a smile and Joshua nodded. She stood and helped Cas to his feet. The angel dipped his head and shrugged his shoulders several times. Jenna tried to picture the magnificent black wings stretching out behind him.

Castiel looked from one member of their rag tag group to another. "Thank you," he told them earnestly.

"Yeah well, don't you forget about us now that you're back in with Heaven," Dean joked, but Jenna could sense the worry in the hunter's voice. She knew he'd miss having Cas around the bunker all of the time, but she also knew that the angel would be back, and he would be there for them whenever they needed him.

"I would never forget you," Castiel assured him before returning with the other angels to Heaven, his tone serious. "You're my friends. My family."

That only left one little matter. Jenna glanced across the room at Crowley. His wounds had healed as soon as the Winchesters had released him from the devil's trap. Yet he did not seem to share their enthusiasm. The joy that was infecting everyone else at their victory was absent. She walked up to him, and though her gut reaction was to throw her arms around his neck she stopped short. "We did it," she exclaimed. "It worked."

Crowley merely nodded and grunted. Despite their victory the demon seemed miserable and lost in thought.

Jenna dragged a toe along the ground and frowned. As much as this was a conversation she would have preferred they could have in private, she needed it to be dealt with. "So, my contract," she asked hesitantly, "now that Malphas is-"

"About that," Crowley cut her off. When he turned to face her, Jenna could see the red in his eyes and the elation from their victory drained instantly away and was replaced with a growing ball of dread in the pit of her stomach. She was already shaking her head as Crowley continued to speak. "According to Paragraph 12 subsection 2 the contract required the defeat of Malphas."

"Dude, he's in a fucking cage," Dean growled angrily. "He ain't ever getting out."

Crowley remained unphased. "Nonetheless," he replied as he fixed his tie. "While Malphas may be caged and out of our way for the time being, he remains undefeated in the strictest sense of the word."

"You sonuvabitch!" Dean shouted as he lunged at Crowley. The demon once again at full power flicked his wrist and sent Dean flying backwards.

Sam took a step towards the demon, but one sharp look stopped him in his tracks. "This isn't right, Crowley," he protested. "You know it isn't."

The brothers had some choice words for the restored King of Hell, but Jenna barely heard them. Their shouting was no more than a dull hum in the back of her head as the realization hit her. Everything else faded into the background. Crowley had no intentions of letting her go. Not ever. "So my soul?" Jenna asked as she stumbled backwards, away from the demon.

"Belongs to me," Crowley informed her.

Jenna shook her head as she continued to back away from him. No. No. No. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't what was supposed to happen at all, she thought panicked.

"I won't lose you," Crowley growled as he took a step towards her.

Jenna's head was spinning and it was all that she could do to stay standing as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. "Yet you would torture me until there was none of me that was human left, until there was none of _me_ left," she retorted.

"Red," Crowley closed the distance between them and stroked a thumb across her freckled cheek. Jenna turned her head away from his touch. Sniffing back her tears she reached into the inside pocket of Crowley's suit jacket where he kept his angel blade. "If you kill me, who knows who will take my place and own your soul," he warned.

"I'm not going to kill you," Jenna told him. Instead she took the blade and pressed its handle into his hand.

"Jenna!" Dean shouted as he rushed towards them. "What are you doing?"

Crowley rolled his eyes and sent the brothers flying backwards again. This time he used his power to put up a temporary barrier. Dean pounded furiously against the invisible wall until Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and convinced him to stop. There was nothing that they could do.

Jenna took Crowley's hand in hers and guided the blade to her throat. "If this is what you want, then just do it. If you want to hurt me..."

Crowley's eyes narrowed and he stared at her, a torn expression on his face. "Red-"

"Please, Crowley!" Jenna begged, tears brimming in her glacial blue eyes. "I can't live like this. Not with this hanging over me. I loved you. I _still love you_ , but I can't do this. So if this is what you really want then, please, just do it."

Jenna closed her eyes and waited for the biting pain of the blade digging into her flesh. Instead she heard it clatter to the ground, and in a heartbeat Crowley's lips were on hers. She tried to push him away, but he held her tight and would not let her go. Jenna beat on his chest with her fist, tears streaming down her face. Then she felt it. It had been so long since she had signed that contract and sealed it with a kiss, but she would never forget what it had felt like. She would never forget the energy that passed between them. She stopped fighting and as Crowley released her she felt her bonds break. The contract that had burned beneath her skin was no more. She was free.

"It was never what I wanted for you, Red," Crowley admitted. "I just-"

"Then what do you want?" Jenna stopped him. Inside her chest her heart pounded. She was free. She could leave. She could never look back. But that wasn't what she really wanted.

Crowley stared at her. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked.

Through her tears Jenna choked back a laugh. "Can't you just say it?" she asked him. "Just this once?"

"I want you, love," Crowley told her. "I want you."

With a heavy sigh Jenna leaned her forehead against Crowley's chest and let him take her in his arms. His warmth enveloped her and as he leaned down and placed a kiss on top of her head all of the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders. Malphas was gone, the world was safe for the time being, and she was free to choose. And she chose him. She chose Crowley because she wanted him too.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannnnndddd that's a wrap! Thank you so much for reading. I have really appreciated all your feedback. Now that this story is finished, I would love to hear your thoughts. I'll be starting another Supernatural Crowley/OC fic and hope to have the first chapter up in the next week or two. So, what did you like? What can I do better next time around? What would you like to see?


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